#YOU GET THAT ASK ALL THE TIME AND YOURE SO SICK IF IT

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!

I love your writing so much and think about it maybe too often haha. Today I fell and sliced the back of my hand open so I had to go wait 4 hours at the ER to get it sutured back together and I thought it might be a sort of funny scenario to write about with the marauders where R just walks up to them covered in blood like “heyy who wants to drive me to the ER” and is pretty chill in demeanour until the reality of having a hole in her hand sets in once they clean her up. I went into shock then, lost my hearing for a few minutes which was scary, but luckily I had a someone nearby who could help. Of course no worries if you don’t feel like it, I appreciate you and I hope you have a lovely day!♡

Thanks for requesting! I hope your hand is feeling better lovely <3

cw: blood, mention of razors (unrelated to blood)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 788 words

“Hey, Sirius?” 

Sirius screws the brush of his nail polish back into the bottle. “Yeah?” 

“Are you busy?” 

“Not anymore.” He gets up from the bed, wandering towards your voice in the bathroom. “What’s up, gorgeous? You need something?” 

Sirius stalls when he finds you. You’re standing there with a dissatisfied frown on your face, your hand a basin of blood held in front of you that’s overflowing into the sink. 

“Maybe a ride to A&E?” you ask. “If you’re free.” 

“What the hell happened?” Sirius goes to you. He tries to take your hand, but you move it away. 

“Wait, your nails—” 

“I’m not really worried about my nails right now, babe.” He holds you by the wrist, turning the faucet on to a gentle flow before bringing your hand underneath it. The blood washes away quickly, and Sirius blocks your view of the cut, leaning down to see it. “How’d you manage this?” 

“I was just opening my new razors—” 

“Razors?” 

“It wasn’t even the razors that did it,” you say, a laugh somewhere in your voice. Your raised voices have drawn attention from the rest of the house. Remus and then James appear in the doorway. “It was the plastic it comes in. Surprisingly sharp.” 

“What’s going on?” asks James. 

“She would like to know,” Sirius informs him, “if it’s convenient for any of us to drive her to A&E.” 

You roll your eyes. “Alright, you don’t have to say it like that. I just mean that it’s not so dire, I’m hardly bleeding out.” 

“You might be!” 

“What’d you do, love?” Remus moves forward to see, he and Sirius now clustered on either side of you, each closer to your own hand than you are. 

“She managed to injure herself with plastic packaging.”

“Okay. Again, the tone is a bit much,” you say. 

“Aw, sweetheart.” James’ arms wrap around your waist. He smudges a kiss onto your cheek. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you tell him, audibly softening at the affection, “it doesn’t even hurt that bad, it’s only stinging…” You go quiet. 

Sirius glances back at you, and you’re staring between him and Remus, your hand in your view for the first time. You look suddenly paler. 

“Hey, baby.” Sirius’ voice draws the attention of the other two to what’s happened. He steps in front of your hand again, squeezing up the length of your arm. “You’re okay.” 

“It’s…” You stare at where you had been for a moment longer, then snap your vision to the side. You’re breathing a tad faster. “God, sorry. I feel sort of sick.” 

“Take some breaths, dove, you’re alright.” Remus holds your hand close to his chest, shielding it from your view as he reaches into a nearby drawer for bandages. “We’re just going to stop the bleeding and then take you to A&E, you don’t have to do anything.” 

“All of you?” 

“Why?” James gives your middle a light squeeze. “Are there some of us you’d rather not have there?”

“I knew she had favorites.” Sirius grins. “Cruel. We’re only trying to be there for you, gorgeous.” 

You smile a little bit for their sake. You’re not sure either of them believe it, but James gives you a thankful kiss nonetheless. 

“Keep breathing,” he reminds you, big hand rubbing up and down your abdomen. “You’re really doing so well. I was surprised by how calm you seemed a minute ago.” 

“You should have heard her before you got here.” Sirius squints his eyes at you playfully. “She wouldn’t let me touch her hand because she was worried it’d mess up my nail polish.” 

“Sweetheart,” James laughs, giving you another fond squeeze. “Really?” 

“Priorities, babe,” Sirius chides you. 

“Alright,” says Remus. You feel a kiss on your knuckles, and then he’s turning around, your bandaged hand still held protectively between both of his. “Is anyone going to warm the car, or do I have to do everything?” 

You nod, chastened, and start towards the door, but you’re dragged back by three pairs of hands. 

“I mean anyone not injured, dove.” Remus’ voice is heavy with loving exasperation. 

“See what we’ve been dealing with? It’s a two man job.” Sirius squeezes your shoulder on his way past, presumably going to warm the car. James says something about getting your shoes and follows behind.

You give Remus a woeful look. He tsks, folding you into a hug. “Did you really prioritize Sirius’ nail polish over your bleeding hand?” he asks in a murmur. 

You mush your cheek to his chest. “Only for a minute.” 

Remus is quiet, but his amused breath fans over the top of your head as he brings his lips down for a kiss.

[retiredteabag]

soft!Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5 - pt. 6 - pt. 7

Synopsis: Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. Now he’s not sure what to do with himself after meeting the kind and generous owner of the dog he pet-sits for.

read along as Toji grows more comfortable around you despite his past.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Toji was flipping his burner phone around in his hand over and over. Waiting patiently for a recognizable man to come stand beside him.

It hadn't rained in days but the streets he had been loitering were damp, the drainage was clogged with leaves and trash. This place was shitty. Quiet in a way that was dangerous to those from an area with high crime rates.

Three days prior, Toji watched as you shook, hiding your fear behind explanations. That night when he got to his run down apartment, he contacted a "private bail bondsman" (a glorified bounty hunter) to take on the favor he asked of his old boss, Shiu.

Toji knew better than anyone the kind of paper trail left in the wake of corporate abuse crimes. Though the man had never worked an office job a day in his life, it wasn't uncommon for a high roller to request his services. To think, you worked in an environment even remotely similar to the ones he had seen. It made him sick.

Toji had the bondsman look into HR files from your company. Look into the shareholders, those shareholder's families, and that was really all it took. Toji might not have known what to look for, but his little agent certainly did. The connections were obvious, all leading to one man.

A slimy bastard with a dozen write-ups, yet for reasons unknown, no trials, no court dates, no absence from work.

Perhaps a few years ago, this endeavor would give Toji a power trip, to be the one calling the shots, and handing out orders, he might have taken pleasure in the experience. Somehow that wasn't the case. Somehow the connection to you made him want to get it over with quickly. Somehow something had changed.

He told you none of this, of course. You with your big eyes and soft words. You and your endless kindness. No, he wouldn't tell you his plan. He would tell himself it was to protect you, but deep down he knew the truth.

He could not fathom you fearing him. He wouldn't allow it. Whatever that meant, he would become an image of security for you. And he wouldn't screw it up. Not after the gentlest soul he had met had been taken to feel unsafe.

It is for that reason. And only that reason, that Toji refrains from having your scummy coworker killed. He could've had it done in a few hours. Woulda done it himself too. It wouldn't have haunt him, he wouldn't feel remorse. But for you, he would go nicely.

Nicely enough.

Blackmail might strike fear in the heart of a man more than his own death could. And after days of research, there was a feast to exploit this snake with.

--

"Just get it done." Toji was saying, his flip phone in one hand, the other scratching between the dog's ears.

Toji made a kissy face at the panting canine. The dog appeared to be smiling as Toji brutally called the shots on a man's career.

The man over the phone spoke, "I've got an anonymous email ready for his rich little daddy, that and a CC for the CEO of the company. He'll be gone in a day or so. Won't have a face in the corporate world if it leaks." The man on the line was laughing.

"Good. Once you're done, Shiu will have your pay. Don't speak of it to anyone." Toji stood, looked at the clock.

"Yeah, man, I got it." And with that, Toji snaped the device shut, heading to the door to get his shoes. You'd be back soon, and he hopes to catch you on the way out.

Unintentionally, of course.

These past few days Toji had never felt so comfortable in his position. He was sure of himself. You didn't want him for anything but his care of your dog. You weren't gonna use him.

He felt almost ashamed. For the first time, he was more than just his body, more than a couple bucks. Why did a small part of him wish you would look at him the way other women did. With hunger.

He must be crazy.

He heard your car coming up the driveway, slid on his other shoe and swung open the door. He looked in the opposite direction, pretending he didn't see or hear you.

You stopped the car, put it in park, and rolled down the window. "Oh, Toji, you didn't have to stay this late!" You look at him with a worried gaze and he just smiles.

Bending down to look at you properly, he basks in the fact that you don't pull your face from his. He shares your space when he says, "Was nothin'".

You grin, "You're too good. I'm so glad you're here when I can't be, seriously, thank you."

You're too good. Oh, if only you knew.

"Yer' just easily impressed." He taps on your car door twice and stands to his full height again. "Too grateful and all that." He swings his key ring on his finger, stepping back toward his car but never taking his eyes from you.

You frown. "No really. I'm glad I can rely on you! And if you ever need a day off, just tell me, okay?"

He tilts his head, "Kay'" He smirks. Knowing it won't happen, but he likes to see you smiling at him. He leans against his beat up vehicle, watching you drive into your garage, park again, and get out. He watches you get to the interior door and waves back slowly before you press the garage door button to close.

Then, he looks up at the sky, sighing.

The difference between the two of you could not be more stark. He felt like a sewer rat in your presence. You were so pristine, and perfect. Still, you never treated him as anything but a privilege to be around.

His chest ached.

Sighing, he unlocked his car door and hopped in. Ready to make the drive back to his apartment.

Was it too much, to hope you would see him the way he sees you? Does he deserve that? Definitely not. But he couldn't help but hope. You never took an interest in those uppity corporate boys you worked with. And you were so endlessly busy.

He shook all the silly thoughts filling his head out. Starting up the engine, he ran a hand down his face.

She deserves a man who'll wait on her hand and foot. That'll kiss the ground she walks on.

Those rich boys don't know what they're missing. If he was in their position, he wouldn't let you work yourself to the bone, wouldn't let you put up with a work environment you hate. Wouldn't let you come home stressed.

Too bad I'm just the dog-sitter, huh? He chuckles.

When he arrives at his apartment, he barely has time to swing off his jacket, and step out of his shoes before his phone buzzes in his inner pocket. His work phone.

He ruffles with the jacket in his gasp and when he flips it open, all the messages say are:

"Sent. No need to follow up."

and

"This guy is done lol"

Toji smirks before he carelessly tosses the phone onto the kitchen counter. Flops himself onto his couch. Grinning with the knowledge that tomorrow, you're gonna have a great day.

--

And a great day, you most certainly have. You were barely in your office thirty minutes before, Lucy, your sweet assistant came racing in, squealing your name.

"What is it?" You asked, she was beaming like a child on Christmas.

Lucy attempted to contain herself, and stood straight with a faux air of professionalism, "He's gone." She giggles. "He's fired!"

You gasp. Surely not... "He...?" You question. No name is needed. The bastard was infamous.

She just nods her head with a huge smile.

You stand. Slam your hands on your desk. Then spin around and laugh.

Lucy squeals again and the two of you lock eyes, and embrace.

It had been too long. And it wasn't only you who had experience with harassment from the man. This was a win for virtually everyone in the company that wasn't in ownership.

"What-" You gulp air, "What was it? What finally did it?" Getting the question out.

She shakes her head and shrugs dramatically. "Not sure, nobody knows and the associates won't say."

Your brows furrow... "Really? Well, something must have happened..." You muse, "I wish I could see him packing his things now. Bet he's got some intern doing it form him."

"Oh, I'm sure. I just wish I knew what he did to finally lose grace with the company..."

You too were curious, but your overwhelming joy overrode that curiosity.

You felt free. Like you could be fulfilled at work now. A weight you hadn't known was there feels suddenly lifted and oddly, you want to cry.

It's a fact of life that when you receive good news, you want to share it with those around you. So why is it, that the first person you think of as your heart jumps for joy is the dog-sitter?

God, you were lonely.

You hope he doesn't feel burdened by your closeness.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

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[leam1983]

The one problem with having a manager who's possessed is that most demons are, well, power-hungry little pissants. If you want to know why most of them claim to be Satan, that's why. At the same time, most demons have a staggering inferiority complex. Thank them a couple times, welcome their input, and they start to peacock around, too busy preening to bother with the early stages' shock-and-awe displays.

The thing is, I missed Joe's early stages. We'd seen demonic oppression take root - he'd turn sullen and closed his office's blinds, he'd stopped bathing - but the possession proper was a two-week-long sick leave, on our end. When he came back, he looked even worse, and simultaneously better.

"Listen here, maggots - I want calls and referrals to be up by 75% by the end of this quarter. Mark my words, those who displease me will be met with untold suffering."

He'd probably expected gasps, but all he got after his first huddle after his return was me and the other guys shrugging, hands in our pockets. "Okay."

You have to understand, demons aren't really built for compliance. The look he gave us was one of utter bafflement, as if he was begging to ask us "What? No wailing, no teeth-gnashing? No crying out to your feckless Lord?"

And he indeed received nothing. Nothing except compliance.

So, "Satan" got used to it over the following months. Being met with nothing except willing collaborators took the first day's menace and turned it into a somewhat gruesome take on pride and fondness. So, when Joe - or "Lord Satan", as he wanted to be called - waddled up to me with his sores almost healed and his pustules popped, smiling his ruined teeth in the closest thing to a congenial smile he could muster, I knew I wasn't in any danger.

"Ah, David - most loyal of my subjects; how proud you make me! Referrals are up, sales follow in suit; and your Lord feels... magnanimous, today. The meat is screaming in the corner, telling me to defer your raise and I, well... delight in tormenting this ant whose body I inhabit."

He slapped a clawed hand on my shoulder in a mockery of paternal care. "Consider your paycheck raised, worm."

The impact made one of his popped pustules ooze and drip on my other shoulder. "Aww," the demon said, in a tone that wanted to go for mockery but couldn't quite hide its rising attachment. "Oopsie! Take five and change into a clean shirt; you have gym and laundromat privileges from now on."

I beamed. "Awesome! Thanks, Lord Satan!"

The demon purred, fidgeted with its ruined fingers for a moment, and then looked back to me. "Call me Paimon. Satan is, well; my liege's name, and all demons attempt to-"

I nodded. "I get it, it's fine. You're not in Hell anymore, Paimon; you don't need to keep fronting, if you want to earn respect. Feel free to keep going with this, but you can drop this Lord Satan crap."

The demon offered me a puzzled look. "You know my Name - and you do not banish me?"

I scoffed. "Why would I? I need this job same as anyone else here!"

It's been over a month since your manager was possessed by a demon. Yet, instead of fetching the nearest priest or throwing a bucket of holy water at them, you and your coworkers have just rolled with it, as the demon is WAY more bearable to work under.

[bunnys-kisses]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა a butcher au - max verstappen ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

max could've been a lot of things. but he was very good at cutting meat. those curious blue eyes didn't flinch at the sight of guts and blood. he simply worked and he in turn lived a happy life. in a way it got certain frustrations out, that he was never a good driver. when he craved up meat for sale at the small shop he worked at, in the apron and heavy gloves, he liked that no one recognized him. the weight of expectations didn't fall to heavily, instead he got thanks yous and no one praying for his downfall. he did have favorite customers though. the old nonnas who came in who were very particular, but always left heavy handfuls of change in the glass tip jar. the love sick man trying to win of a new woman of the week with his attempt at fine dining. and you.

you had lived out in the small town near the italian and french border for a few months now. an aunt of yours had died almost a year ago and you get saddled with the small property she owned. you took it as a chance to go somewhere else, having lived in the bustling city in another part of the world. so, the small town life was nice. and every week you'd come in and see max. he was always happy to see you. he'd often say to you, "i think i have something better in the back." before he flashed you a smile and headed to find a better cut.

he liked you, there a fondness he carried for you. you were just very polite and sweet. your grasp on both italian and french was a little rusty, but max was helpful as he wrapped up your order and told you to have a nice day. over the months you became comfortably familiar.

while max was comfortable at a distance, he was surprised when he heard your voice from the front. he looked down at himself, elbow deep in an animal all morning... staining the front of the apron and the gloves he wore. there was even specs who knew what on his upper forearms. "shit." he sighed to himself. he knew that his job required getting a little dirty, but he didn't want the beautiful woman who came in every week to see him look like a serial killer. he quickly took off the apron and gloves (even attempting to pick the dried blood off his arms) before he went to see you. you were at the front with other groceries in hand. you were just in yesterday. he looked at you with a little confusion. and you simply smiled. you placed two sunflowers wrapped in last weeks newspaper on the counter near the cash register.

you couldn't look him in the eyes when you asked him, "i couldn't wait for you to make the first mood, max. but... would you like to have dinner with me?"

max picked up the flowers, they looked beautiful even in the somewhat bad lighting of the butcher shop. he looked to you, your smile had dropped and you looked nervous. while max was wrapped up in receiving flowers and your request, he realized he hadn't said anything. he put the flowers down and took you by the hands across the counter and said, "yes! of course!"

you ended up having dinner with max at your home a few nights later. you two had been texting over the course of those days. and while he found himself comfortable messaging you. being in your home felt nerve wracking, he hadn't been on a date since he left his home town after he turned eighteen. but, you looked beautiful in the kitchen. making sure that everything was perfect for dinner. occasionally his eyes would scan over your form as you worked in the kitchen. you seemed to natural there. the way you prepared the sausages in the pan (the ones he sold you days prior) made max feel more at ease. there was a joke there about you knowing how to prepare meats. while most of the time he simply ate vegetables when he got home, after being around cut up animals for hours on end made him want to eat a stalk of celery by the time he got home. but to see someone so beautiful work a kitchen marvelously and the end result being something so beautiful.

"i made these rolls earlier today." you said as you brought the bowl with some on there, "i'm not the best baker ever. i'm pretty sure i can't compete with the place a few doors down from you." you laughed as you turned back to around to grab the pot of stew that you finished.

max eyed you behind as you walked away and was already in love.

you returned with dinner in hand, oven mitts protecting your hands from the hot surface of the pot. it smelled good. it smelt like home. and it made max feel warm all over as if his body wasn't heated from the warm summer night. you smiled when you sat across from him then clinked your wine glass with his, "to the first date in a long time." and max took a sip, he got lost in your eyes for a moment. and there was little room for dessert when you pulled max into the bedroom. the bed frame creaked as he was almost pushed onto it. you stood in front of him and he wrapped his strong arms around you then kissed at your clothed middle.

the clothes came off and he saw you eye his chest for a moment. he almost wanted to recoil a little from the attention. he wasn't built like a statue. he was strong for years of lifting things around the shop and walking to and from home every morning. but before he could say anything or move, you ran your hands down his chest. feeling his soft skin under your palms then said, "holy shit, this is what's been hiding under those aprons you wear." he looked away for a moment felt heat in his cheeks before you pulled him by his chin into a heated kiss.

you got max onto your back and straddled his waist. you watched him swallow before you kissed him along the neck and collarbones. your rubbed yourself up against his abdomen and shuddered from the stimulation of your clit. max clutched onto the covers under him and you went in for another searing kiss. it was perfect, you were perfect. your movements were slow, feeling him up against you. it was teasing for both of you until you got yourself seated on his cock. which made him tense up and feel a flare of his across his body. your hands on his strong shoulders for leverage as you moved up and down. max shuddered and his swallowed hard, "shit. please." he said as you moved against him. you replied, "you feel so good. i'm surprised no one else has tried to pick you up in town." you giggled, the heat in your cheeks was heavy. he simply held onto your hips and started to work alongside you, letting the pleasure bubble up, "i get nonnas and their granddaughters visiting from overseas. usually they are too scared to talk to me. or i'm too scared to talk to them. they see the blood or the animal in the back and get scared." maybe it wasn't polite to talk about work while he was fucking you, but you didn't seem to complain. he found that you didn't flinch at how the sausages were made in the shop. he clutched further onto your soft hips. his hands were used daily for taking apart the meats that arrived. he was usually in the back carving like he was making a masterpiece. the anatomy of the beast burned into his head. but while he held you, his touch was full of tenderness.

he wasn't trying to carve himself into your skin, he wanted to make you feel good. he wanted to be good in your world, and as sweet moans left your lips he knew that he was doing just that. he looked up at you with those blue eyes, the pupils a little wider from the heat in his body. the euphoria that was a drum in his chest as he continued to meet your pace. he then added, "plus, now i have no reason to talk to them. not when i have you." you blushed a little bit, looking away for a moment as he did earlier before you leaned in and kissed him on the lips. your hands splayed across his chest as you worked along his cock. up and down as a fire burned in your belly.

you two kissed once more as you pace started to stagger. you felt the heat become fuel in your blood as you worked his cock. he felt like a dream, an utter euphoria that you couldn't put into words. you had been with others before. but in the low light of the home you now owned with a man you met by chance while living in this small town. there was a certain niceness to it. a comfort you longed for while stuck on packed buses or falling asleep during meetings on a year prior. in the warm heat of the summer, you felt good as you moved against him. so long tinder, so long bumble, you met the man of your dreams while he was covered in blood, whose hands worked diligently every day to deliver the finest cuts of meat. not only to you but to large portions of the town. maybe it was love right off the bat, regardless you felt a warmth in your chest for him.

you kissed once more as you both loss the rhythm, soon you finished with a moan against his lips and he followed soon after. he clutched onto your hips tightly as you continued to thrust on top of him. eventually the pleasure flooded your brain and you slowed down to a stop. the kiss was broken and you both panted heavily. max cupped your face for a moment ans said something you couldn't quite pick up, but you responded with, "right back at ya." between heavy pants. and max knew it was love.

you soon laid in bed with the butcher, curled up against him. both feeling the after shivers of climax. you felt comfortable in the crook of his shoulder and your face up against his softer chest. you could tell he was strong, but wasn't opposed to homemade cooking.

he lazily took your hand in his other one and kissed across the knuckle. he sighed against your fingers, rubbing them up against his cheek soon after, "if this is a ploy to get a discount

you looked at him and chuckled, "damn, my plan is ruined."

he chuckled, "i'll need a few more homemade meals before i can do that. don't want the little nonnas to think they can seduce me into better prices." then kissed your hands once more.

you sighed and pressed further into him, feeling a sense of comfort in his arms, "next time i'll bring more than flowers."

he simply laughed, but in the back of his mind he thought, don't bring me a ring. that's my job. and maybe it was a little bit too soon to jump to that next step. but, as he held you in his arms it felt like a perfect piece. he wouldn't mind giving you discounts, of course if you were married then it would be free. but as he kissed the top of your head and heard your breathing level out and eventually fall asleep, it felt nice. it felt like home.

[littlemissmaples]

What does your Future Spouse look like?

Pile One: Flowers

Whether your FS is male or female, I'm getting the impression that they have some similarities to Chapelle Roan, or simply just listen to her. I’ve already written everything I need for this reading, I’m just going back and polishing it, so I would like to take the time now to say that there are three consistent themes within this reading that appeared within this reading for me.

1. Your FS likely resembles a celebrity in some way (you’ve probably read another one of my PAC’s before and you fell under the pile where I talked about Zendaya and Tom Holland)

2. Your imagine of your FS isn’t entirely what you think. There is something here that is a little different than what you image or expected.

and 

3. Some of you are Queer and want your FS to be a woman. (For some of you though, you could be straight but just don’t mind if your FS happens to be queer or a woman who has many partners before. Some of you are looking for a dominant woman lmao. You’ll have it, haha.)

Anyways, if that sounds like you, welcome, welcome, let’s get onto your reading!

If your FS identifies as a woman, there’s a strong chance she has a similar look or vocal tone to Chapelle Roan, this hasn’t leaved me as I typed, although I’m getting that she probably doesn’t sings much, if at all, although she may just have that striking tone to her voice and appearance as a whole. She may also be a theater kid or have more of a theater-kid vibe about her, although this may just be you more than her. There are some parallels between the two of you (I’m also getting red lips, take it if that resonates, drop if not.) they may have a lot of similarities to you if not in appearance than interest. (I’m getting Hamilton and 21 Chump Street for some of you, maybe she likes musicals.) As I mentioned before there is a bit of a queer energy here, although don’t worry if you’re not, i’ll get to those of you who’s partner is likely male in a minute, but I digress. If you’re looking for a woman, I’m getting you’re looking for one who’s not only queer but also has a bit of that femme-fatale, Joan-of-Arc kind of vibe to her, like she’s a mix of princess and knight with a Renaissance-like appearance. I’m getting she definitely has that. Although for some of you this is likely a “Dream” and you’re being asked to be a little bit more “realistic” about your FS, no that they don’t exist or you the way you imagine but some of you imagine this warrior of a woman with big bright red flowy hair, something like maxie from Under the Oak Tree maybe, (but less shy) when in reality, her hair may be more of a brown-ish red rather than that bright almost blonde-ish ginger red you would see in like a movie or something, or perhaps more of a dyed color red. I feel like for some of you your FS may not even have red hair but just have dark wavy brown hair and freckles and while they will be outspoken they’re likely a little bit more introverted than you expected, but this doesn’t mean she’ll be any less fun or into the kind of stuff you’re into, i’m getting this is somewhat of my kinky pile and some of you are looking for a dominant woman, you’ll have it, you’ll have it, but don’t reduce her to only that, okay, haha. <3

If your FS identities as male, I sense a mix of patience and a bit of impatience from you lmao, you’re sick and tired of waiting both for me to get to describing your FS and also you’re sick of waiting for him to show up, but I’m getting there’s this back-and-forth inside you of what you want your FS to look like vs what they’ll most likely look like. (I know what my next PAC is gonna be about now lol.) Look, my love, your FS might not match the exact picture in your mind. 

And that’s okay. I’m literally getting the image of a slightly sun-kissed, blonde-haired, bright-eyed, “golden retriever” type of boyfriend who could be a book lover and surfer who hangs out at the beach often and is a fond of marine life and what not, the “perfect” guy with a chiseled jaw and bright gorgeous brown eyes that make you melt under the sun. Thiiiis is not him lmao, but this does not mean this is “not” him. What do I mean by this.

Much like I told you, or the other side of Pile one if you skipped the first half. Your FS has some qualities about them that are different from what you expected. I get the sense that you’re afraid he’s not going to be your type and that you’re not going to be attracted and perhaps you try hard to let go of this and tell yourself that you’re okay with “any” type no matter how he looks like, but sugar, 1. It’s okay to have a type but 2. It’s okay to allow yourself to be okay to like someone outside of your type. You need to be a little bit more kind to your mind and understand that you have no idea what this guy looks like, perhaps you have very high standards or maybe even a light prejudice that holds you back from imagine him to look like anything except what you imagine him like, I’m not here to judge you but you need to understand that if you want to grow past this, healing does not come from judgment, you can’t grow and shame yourself all at once. If you’re judging yourself, ask yourself why, sit with that thought or feeling and see what it wants and why is it there, do whatever you need for yourself in that moment and then let it pass by and evolve. You’ll be just fine <3 But back to your FS, your FS is a criminally attractive. You might not notice it at first because they don’t look how you imagined in your head, but once you give them the space they need to shine in front of you, oh man you’re never coming back.

I’m getting some of you are looking for more of a “Golden Retriever” type boyfriend but you’re likely to end up with more of a “Black Cat” kind of personality. They might actually be Black, like African American (I’m getting some of you are African yourselves, perhaps you’re from West Africa, you might be the same ethnicity but don’t worry this man will NOOOOOT look like your father lmao) or if they’re a woman, they may have more “Cat-Like” eyes and be a little quieter and have sharper more model like features than what you expected, think Nara Smith but with more of a bolder, Alt style/personality. Anyways, your FS is hard for me to describe because of this very reason, whenever I go to say something about them, your energy comes in with a panic “NO!” you say, hahaha. For some of you, you have NOTHING to worry about and they look EXAAAACTLY what you imagine them to look like, but maybe with one tiny, itty, bitty difference like maybe they longer lashes than you expected or they have a beauty mark on their face. But for others, they look like how you imaged but 1 key treat is just the opposite. If they’re male I get the sense, you’re looking for someone whos has softer feature or maybe they’re “beautiful” in an almost feminine sense, your FS will likely be likely be like this.  I feel like this is a very beautiful guy or maybe this is just your rose colored glasses trying to paint him like that again, haha, guys, please, I promise he’s beautiful, he’s very pretty but I get the sense some of you are attaching an almost unrealistic standard to how he’s gonna look like. You’re really indecisive here arent you? I keep repeating myself in this reading, it’s wild. But I promise I get it, it ain’t your fault. But do know that your FS DOES looks like a celebrity of some sort, if it’s not someone you recognie then maybe they just have the appearance of someone who would do good under the public eye, someone who’s very aesthetic and dresses well. But do keep the whole “1 opposite trait thing.”

If you expect them to look feminine, they’ll likely be masculine with feminine features.

If you expect them to be be silent and reserved, they’ll likely be calm but very sociable.

If you expect them to be tough and a lonewolf, they’ll likely be warm hearted but stern in a way.

I’ve been all over the place with this reading, let’s focus solely on their appearance.

If female she may look like Nara Smith or Chapelle Roan, If male a celebrity isn’t coming into mind (instagram model for some) but whatever image of a person, celebrity or not it is that you have in mind is the “Base” of their appearance BUT, find a trait, whatever it is that sticks out to you the most and switch it for something else. If her hair’s short, it’s likely rather long. If she’s Tall in your head, she’s probably a littler short. If he’s thin and a bit more on the delicate side, imagine him to be lean in his built or with a slightly rugged edge. Brown or “Reddish” Brown eyes for them.

That’s all for now, haha, as wild of a ride as this was, I had fun, I hope this reading brought you something. If you’d like a more personalized reading though feel free to buy a reading from me off my Ko-Fi! Donations are also appreciated (though never required, your time here with me was more than enough today <3)

I hope to see you again babes!!

Pile Two: Bicycle

Wow.. I don’t know how to describe your FS to you, I suddenly got this overwhelming sense of peace over me. I was just listening to United In Grief by Kendrick Lamar and now my phone’s Playing Blue Dream which honestly tells me so much about them. I feel like this person is just, honestly, a dream, I want to say they’re so pretty, but honestly calling them a beauty would be almost an understatement. They could be very spiritual, I’m struggling to pick up if they’re male or female, they may be non-binary and Identify as they/them or they may just be somewhat genderfluid. If they’re a woman, they have some “masculine” features to them, perhaps thicker eyebrows and wider shoulders, but honestly these features of their just make them appear even more mystical and more elegant. They can have very clear skin. If they’re male they might have some more “feminine” features about them, like soft beautiful lashes or a little beauty mark under the eye like that of a 1920’s actress. This person makes me think of incense, perhaps they meditate often or light some nice incense around the house, they really have this lovely earthy-spiritual vibe about them. If they’re black they may be light skin with soft curls, though for some of you it’s a tighter curl pattern, for others of you this person is simply foreign she could be south african if a woman and kind of resemble someone like Tyla, if male their ethnicity could genuinely be anything, though I’m getting they’re likely very mixed, they really give me Jhene Aiko vibes which makes sense given how she’s Black, Japanese, Dominican and something else I believe??? Correct me if I’m wrong. Overall this man is a beauty, I’m not sure why the Movie Millenium Actress by Satoshi Kon is coming into mind, but like the main character he could have a very calm, yet determined demeanor to him, I’m getting he’s been patiently searching for love for a very long time, much like her, a love that he’s not sure he’ll ever come to cross but he’s possible he’ll find one day. Gosh I can’t wait for you guys to meet. 

Alright let’s continue talking about appearance, they may have a “sleepiness” to their eyes and a sweetness to their smile that’s very calming, they might wear very flowy clothing or comfortable loose fitting clothes. I want to say street wear but honestly it’s a little more modest than regular street wear, this is only for a few of you but they may be muslim. Even if they aren’t they’re very stylish but they have a uniqueness to their appearance you wouldn’t expect to find anywhere else, it’s like a mix of modern and ancient. Like Imagine mixing punk with decora but still somehow making it work. I get the sense your future spouse might either be experimenting with their style or simply not have singular style and likes to try out different clothes. 

This is also something not appearance related, but they may not talk much, they’re likely more a of a listener, they’ll likely like to hear you talk more, although I’m getting the sense you won’t be able to do much talking around them when they’re admiring you lovingly with those deep inquisitive eyes of their, haha. Honestly, being with this person is just going to bring you such a sense of peace and I get when they do open their mouth it’s always going to be the silliest thing that makes you laugh or something that’s thought provoking and inspires soul-searching. I recommend you listen to Blue Dream by Jhene Aiko, their energy to me feels so similar to this. I keep finding myself saying “What a Dream! What a Dream!” this could be you, or them although I get that you’ve never been with a person like this, I get that you might not expect to fall for them as hard as you did, but just know that when they met you, god, they knew it’d be no one else but you from that very moment <3

That is all my dove!

If you’d like a more personalized reading, feel free to purchase one from me off my Ko-Fi! (link at the end of your pile)

Donations are also appreciated (though never required, your time here with me was more than enough for me <3)

I hope to see you again, my dream!! (This could also be a nickname they might have for you or you for them now that I think of it <3)

P.S

Snoop Dogg keeps coming into my head during this reading, Idk why lol, it’s possible they may be very silly and good hearted or just have ADHD or be Neuro-Divergent in some way lmao.

Pile Three: Tabby Kitten

Pile one and two both had people who’s future spouse’s were likely Female, I’m sorry to say that if you’ve selected this pile expecting a woman, this is likely not for you. Wow, this person is MASCULINE like H.E.L.L honestly, they’re almost influencing the way I write, it’s very hard lmao to type casually like I do, but they’re very forward in the way that they talk. I feel like you likely know this person, I wouldn’t say this is an ex or perhaps someone that you’ve had a situationship with. I feel like they have a lot to say to you, I’m getting someone who’s more on the “Rough and Roudy” side, I almost don’t want to give physical descriptions, they’re someone who likes to banter a bit or sometimes be a little bit of a tease. They’re a lot to handle, maybe a bit intense but I don’t get that they’re toxic. This is for a few of you but he gives me “Booktok” vibes lmao, he might have tattoos. Is this guy real? Lmao??

I want today this guy doesn’t exist and I just got sma-OH SHIT!! WAAAAIT I GET IT. LMAOO.

Oh my gosh girl!! It’s not that he doesn’t exist, it’s that Y O U think he doesn’t exist!! This guy that you describe as your “boyfriend” could be like a mix of several book-boyfriends, he’s every troupe that you like but with a healthy-mindset-not-actually-toxic-and-wont-hurt-you-maybe-others-but-never-you vibe. BIIITTTCH AAAHH, oh my gosh, I feel like we’re at a sleep over and I’m geeking out with you. I get the sense that maybe you’ll be hanging out with friends and when you finally show them a picture of him they’ll all be screaming with you like I am. I really want to say this person is not real, but Jesus fuck, you’ve manifested this so hard I get the sense that this man actually does exist, like maybe you’re into super natural and your favorite character was Dean, he may look somewhat like Dean but with Tattoos and black hair and drives a motorcycle. Do you watch Doctor Who?? Are you a 90s kid or do you just like the aesthetic because I feel like I’m time traveling, maybe Dean isnt exactly your type but you’re more into a slender, pretty guy aesthetic who have piercings and isnt afraid to paint their hair and wear dark clothes. Lmao, I have no idea where this is going but sis I get that this person really exists, I’m not getting any opportunities to say no even as a joke. 

The only thing is though that there are two of you here, for some of you, you really want the bad boy boyfriend of your dreams and you’ll get him exactly and you imagine him! But for others of you this – OK, idk wtf I just pressed but my computer like glitched almost and I deleted half of everything I wrote before pressing Ctrl + Z to bring it all back. KEEP THIS MINDSET THAT YOU HAVE AND DO NOT CHANGE IT BECAUSE BABYGIRL YOU’RE ALMOST THERE!! The only warning I am getting is to NEVER settle for less, because for a lot of you, you might fall victim to depressive energies and wanting to heal someone else and trap yourself in toxic relationships with shitty guys who use rock music and punk aesthetic and “nonchalantness” as an excuse to be dickheads to their partners and the people they’re supposed to love. NEVER settle for less, you paved the way, maybe some of you have been in past toxic relationships already LET THIS GO and never fall behind again, pick yourself back up Queen (or King or Your Majesty if you’re male or a they/them <3) and PUSH!! PUSH FORWARD YOU GOT THIS!!

And finally some of you don’t give a damn about no future spouse or tarot stuff but you just wanted to pick a pile and read something for fun haha. For others of you your spouse themselves may be reading this together with you in the same room, haha, I’m rooting for you!

Anyways, whomever you are, I hope you get the experience of your dream with this person and that they treat you like absolute royalty, don’t always remember this, that you don’t need to be reminded by someone else that you’re worth treating correctly, you are and have always been special, you are and have always been worth loving <3

“See ya, princess <3” (they may call you this, that’s for a few of you)

Byeee!! I hope to see ya soon! And if you’d like a reading from me, feel free to purchase one from my Ko-Fi or perhaps leave a little donation! Anything and Everything is appreciated but never required! Your time here with me has been more than enough! :D <3

I hope to see ya again soon!

[delilahsturniolo]

i love you, i’m sorry

— m.s

in which . . . matt accidentally confesses something he shouldn’t have in the heat of an argument.

genre/trope . . . enemies to lovers, angst. (resolved)

warnings . . . arguing, kissing & more.

written by . . . @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or re use my works. do not take inspiration without asking permission first. happy reading! :)

“lay on the horn to prove that it haunts me.”

“i love you i’m sorry.”

you and matt have known each other your entire lives, which was unfortunate for the both of you. you may be asking yourself, if you’ve known each other for so long shouldn’t you be best friends?

well, it was quite the opposite actually. you and matt have hated each other for whatever reason, it was a rivalry between you two. you guys couldn’t even be in the same room without bickering, when your family and matt’s family hung out it was absolute hell for you.

all you wanted was to avoid matt at all costs, no matter the circumstances. however, you always got along with matt’s brothers.

you and matt never had a reason to hate each other, in fact you tried being nice to him sometimes. you both just never got along, bickering and complaining about each other 24/7. if you got a dollar for how much you both piss each other off everyday, you’d be filthy rich.

but, matt wasn’t a complete jerk. he didn’t completely despise you, sometimes he held the door open for you. other times, he would slam it shut in your face. matt absolutely adored teasing you, and doing small gestures just to make you annoyed at him. that was something he never failed at.

you had sort of a mixed and unsure feeling about matt. you were confused, you didn’t know how he felt about you. did he hate you, or not? even better question, did you truly hate him?

yes, of course you did. you were supposed to, you can’t love him. but…you felt something different over the past few weeks. as much as you hated to admit it, nowadays you didn’t mind his presence. just a few months ago, you’d rather get hit by a bus than be near him. but other days, he pissed you off more than anything. you hated him…but you didn’t at the same time.

you didn’t know what this feeling was, it made you sick. falling for your childhood enemy? it was impossible, it couldn’t happen. you hated it, you couldn’t make it stop. all you could do was push down your true feelings, and keep pretending.

so now here you were, in the present. it was pretty late in the night. you were at the triplets house, in the kitchen. nick was out for a space camp photoshoot, while chris was sleeping in his room.

you leaned against the counter, scrolling mindlessly on your phone as you popped a potato chip in your mouth, feeling the salty sensation sink on your tongue. quietly humming to yourself, you took in the peaceful silence. that is, until you heard the front door open.

matt walked in the house, going right into the kitchen. he huffed as he saw you, rolling his eyes. you bit your lip, not even acknowledging him.

matt walked over to the counter, shoving you over with his body so he could get by. you grunted, your phone clattering to the floor.

“dude, can you not?” you scoffed, pissed off as you picked your phone up from the floor. matt turned on the sink, beginning to wash the dishes.

“can you not with the attitude?” matt mocked you, not even batting you an eye. usually you would just flip him off and leave, but you didn’t this time. you wanted to confront him, show him that you weren’t a pussy.

to the both of you, arguing was a competition. you would just keep going on and on until one of you backed down, and usually it would be you. however, not this time.

“i don’t have a fucking attitude.” you crossed your arms, the back of his head facing you as he aggressively scrubbed a plate. you were testing his limits, and you found pleasure in that.

“whatever floats your boat.” matt shrugged, laughing to himself. “do you always have to be so annoying?” he continued, which only provoked you more.

you rolled your eyes and sealed the bag of chips shut. “do you always have to be so mean to me all the time?” you shot back at him. matt turned off the sink water, wiping his hands before turning around to face you. “i’m not mean, sweetheart. come on, is that all you got?” matt teased you, knowing it would make you annoyed.

“shut up!” you raised your voice at him slightly, making him scoff in disbelief.

“what the fuck is your problem?” matt raised his voice back at you, you weren’t in the mood for this right now. your frustration was building up by every passing second.

“you, matt! you’re my problem!” you shouted back at him.

“my fucking goodness, y/n. you’re always starting shit, aren’t you?” matt complained, throwing his hands up in the frustration. you simply said nothing.

“what? cat got your tongue?” matt darkly chuckled. you rolled your eyes, starting to walk away. matt only followed after you.

you stomped outside into the driveway, it was the dead of night. you suddenly felt matt grab your arm, turning you around to face him.

“let me go, matt.” you spoke fiercely, trying to yank away from him. his grip only grew tighter, he completely ignored your protests.

“y/n, stop it. listen to me.” matt told you, you only shook your head.

“get away from me, matt. i hate you.” you remarked, matt shook his head. “no you don’t.” he pulled you closer.

the cold wind blew in your hair, matt’s eyes pierced into yours. “what are you talking about?” you questioned him.

“you don’t hate me.” matt shrugged, you weren’t even trying to pull away from him anymore. something was drawing you to him, and you didn’t mind it for once.

“yes i do! you don’t care about me!” you argued back, matt completely snapped at you.

“of course i care, y/n! how could i not care? i care more than anything in the world.” he shouted.

“since when did you start caring about me!?” you scoffed in disbelief.

“since fucking forever, you idiot!”

and those exact words, the moment they came out of his mouth silenced you. which by the way, was a rare occurrence. your lips parted slightly. “what?” you murmured.

matt let go of your arm, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i love you, okay? i love you so fucking much, goddamnit! i’m sorry i fell in love, i can’t do shit about it and…i didn’t want it to happen, y/n.” matt blurted out. what? this was the absolute last thing you were expecting.

“you…what?” you spoke softly. your mind was racing with a million thoughts at once. matt was in love with you? your heart began to beat faster as you looked into his eyes.

“you think i wanted this to happen? trust me, i’m just as confused as you.” matt’s voice broke. you both stood across from each other, goosebumps raising onto your arms.

“i love you too, matt.” you whispered. matt’s gaze immediately softened.

“but…the thing is i can’t. i can’t love you. it won’t work out. we can’t be together and you know that.” you muttered, looking away from him as you said that.

“you don’t get it. it’s not that easy to lose feelings for you, if i could i would. i can’t lose feelings for someone i’ve loved for so fucking long.” matt’s voice came out shaky as he expressed all of his emotions.

you sighed, stepping closer to him. he looked down at you, his eyes growing glossy. your hand traveled up his chest and to the side of his neck, matt’s breath hitched at this action.

before he even knew what was going on, you leaned in, pulling him in for a kiss.

both of your lips connected, your heart felt full, as if you had been needing this your entire life. matt groaned against your lips as the kiss grew more and more passionate, more hungry.

you both wanted this badly, you craved each other more than anything. this felt so wrong in your brain, but yet so fucking right in your heart.

matt’s hands gripped your waist tightly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your lips continued to dance with his, you felt his soft and supple lips crash against yours once more.

matt pulled away from the kiss, not letting go of you though. you looked up at him, a smirk creeping up on your face.

“mmm..you’re not so bad after all.” matt hummed, his finger lifing your chin up with dominance.

“i’m gonna murder you, sturniolo.” you teased, matt only chuckled, his hand moving to your cheek, caressing the skin gently.

“you wouldn’t.” matt smiled down at you, before leaning into your face once more, his lips colliding with yours again.

maybe loving him wasn’t so bad after all.

© delilahsturniolo

join the taglist here! ✉️

[sturnlsstuff]

MASK OFF | ghostface!matt x fem!reader

— warnings: smut with plot, dom!matt, sub!reader, knife kink, unprotected p in v, rough sex, kinda mean!matt, edging, cursing, crying, dirty talk, pet names, mention of murder, - english isn't my first language!!

part one | part two

~~~~~~

"n-no!" you cry out with a pout, when for the fourth time matt stops the movements of his fingers, pulling them out. your orgasm just out of reach again. he was not giving you the relief you so desperately needed, practically edging you, making you squirm under him, while he was watching you with a smirk. you knew you were screwed for tonight, but you wouldn't think he could be so cruel. "please!" you whine, giving him the best puppy eyes you got, but matt only let's out a sarcastic laugh, "now y're fuckin' beggin', huh? interesting"

"i didn't do anything, i swear!" you mewl, tears running down your cheeks from the frustration. matt kneels on the mattress between your legs, grabbing the knife that was laying beside you and holding your wet folds spread with his two fingers. he puts the handle of the knife inside your dripping hole, starting pulling it in and out with unholy speed, while you were gripping the sheets, moaning loudly, your walls clenching around the thing. "i told you to keep your pretty mouth shut, didn't i?" he watches how your pussy sucks in the handle of the knife, while the sharp part was slightly digging into his hand with each movement, but he didn't care right now. not when he was able to see you like this. "your folks are downstairs, remember?"

he just smirks when you put your hand over your mouth, legs trembling when you're closer to the edge again, but he slows down, making it all go away, "fuck!" you squeeze your eyes causing new tears to fall down. you could feel his painfully hard cock straining against your inner thigh. "i'm telling the truth, i didn't say anything! please just let me—"

you cut yourself off with a muffled scream, when he quickly throws the knife onto the mattress and instead slams into you, making sure you feel his dick deep. matt doesn't give you any time to adjust, pulling almost all the way out, before going back in and starting thrusting into you.

it wasn't a secret that matt was pissed off. really mad. since the meeting in the park, he called you three times already and all three times you picked up and let him inside your room, when your parents were gone. he would do his job and leave as always. you were starting to get sick of it, finding yourself being more amused by him with each day and less scared, what was stupid for matt whenever he thought about this. you also caught yourself often fantasizing about him without the mask, even had a wet dream about it earlier this day. you had no courage to ask him to take it off or even if he'd agree to it. though matt wasn't stupid and he noticed the little details, how you would slightly put your hand on his mask, but you wouldn't dare to take if off without his permission, which made him feel somehow proud that you listen to him.

so you spent the whole day trying to distract yourself from thinking about that dream and him in general. at some point your phone rang, you picked up immediately after seeing who's number it was and that's how it all.. started.

"hello?"

"you think you're so slick?" by his voice you could quickly say he was mad. he was actually completely pissed off, feeling betrayed. matt really liked you, craved you and would never want to hurt you even if sometimes... sometimes he wasn't really capable to control himself. "what?" your eyebrows frowned with confusion, while he continued, "y'wanna make me lose my shit? wanna be next?"

"what are you talkin' about?" you asked confused, hearing his low chuckle that makes goosebumps appear on your skin, "you really gonna act all stupid now?" there was a moment of silence as you thought what possibly you could've done, but your head was empty. meanwhile matt was frustrated, grabbing the bridge of his nose and trying to calm himself down, "-- make sure your window's open, i'll be there in 10."

"but my parents—" you started, but he was quick to cut you off, "i don't give a fuck." the call ended, leaving you feeling uneasy and confused, but either way you left your window open and locked your door, just in case if one of your parents would want to come in.

matt was in fact watching your every move, no matter what time of the day it was, he knew what you were doing. he'd watch you hanging out in the cafe with your friends, seeing you and your mom shopping, eating dinner in some fancy restaurant or studying in the library. so he really did know everything and sometimes he didn't necessarily like the things he saw. like yesterday he saw you talking to a cop. he wouldn't think much of it, even if it gave him anxiety, but then this morning a police car drove through his neighborhood, even though this had never happened before. so his assumption was that you just betrayed him. maybe you wanted to set a trap for him? he thought about it for half a day, trying to calm down, but in vain, the anxiety and a sense of betrayal mixed together, creating an explosive mix of emotions. so he was really fucking pissed off and his goal for tonight was to make sure you know how mad he actually was.

the wet, squelching sound coming from you was filling the room and making you heat with embarrassment, while he continues pounding into you really fast. matt grins feeling you squeezing him so tight, it was almost painful, "why'd you do that, huh? got bored of my dick? wanted to make me fuckin' angry?" he rasps, holding your hips when you can't stay still, desperately shaking your head but not being able to say anything, only moans and soft sobs leaving your lips at how good he was making you feel. "i- oh! i'm..." that's when he pulls out just as you were almost coming, causing more tears stream down your face. he flips you over, your face pressed into the pillow. while still holding your hips, he lifts them up and enters you again, immediately going with the same pace as before.

"you're too loud", he bites on his lip, holding back a groan when he feels you clenching around him. despite his anger, he loves watching you struggle while he continues thrusting into you, his cock hitting your g-spot with every move. matt's pride gets the better of him when he sees you like this, knowing that he's the one making you feel so good. there's no mercy from him tonight when he continues bottoming out inside of you on that fast pace. broken cries leaving you have him weak, getting him closer to the edge, "'m tryin' to understand... but i really can't-- fuckkkk, yeah, keep squeezin' me like that..."

the way he fucks you this time reminds you of the first time. you could literally feel the passion and fascination in every of his thrust, but there was also so much anger which made you shiver. you were trying to hold onto literally anything, gripping your sheets, pillows, even the headboard that was hitting your wall with each movement. you'll definitely have some explanation to do for your parents later.

matt watches how your ass bounce, while his cock continue slamming into you and that sight makes his hips stutter, a low moan leaving him when he fills you up with his cum. he slows down only for a second to ride out his high, making you whine in response, before pulling out and flipping you over again, just to see your hair sticking to your forehead and tears on your flushed cheeks. he looks at your hole leaking cum with fascination, his ego immediately boosted.

towering over you, propping himself on his hands on each side of your head, matt looks at you intensely, which makes you literally feel his gaze on you, so you open your eyes. his mask inches away from your face, making your breath hitch in your throat. you really wanted to see his face, know what he looks like and not only know his body from the waist down. you wanted to see all of him and he was able to notice that in your eyes.

he grabs you by the jaw, squeezing your cheeks, "why'd you talk to that cop, huh?" the tone of his voice was low and rough, but dripping with passion. seeing you like this turned him on even more, while you still felt the desire to be satisfied, his release and your own arousal dripping down your inner thighs. "'n' don't gimme that bullshit again, 'bout not doin' anythin', cause i saw you, sweetheart."

"i swear..." you repeat again, shaking your head while he keeps his grip on your cheeks, making your words a bit muffled. "-- he started asking me questions, 'cause he found out about me and that guy you... you know..."

"killed?" matt tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes and trying to process your words. you nod weakly, while new tears runned down your face, he felt it against his skin. "i told him i don't know anything, that i only met with this guy once and nothing happened between us, that i didn't really know him..."

"and he believed you?" his tone was dripping with irony, making your heart skip a beat. "i forced myself to cry and everything, i pretended to be all sad about it and he left me alone, i promise he..."

"pretended to be sad, huh?" matt is quick to cut you off, focusing too much on one thing you said.

it wasn't a secret that you were a little bit insane, matt was aware of it since you'd let him into your room that one night. you also weren't really scared of him. well, maybe a little bit when he was mad, like for example now, but it was making you more horny than afraid, which only confirmed that you were almost as crazy as he was.

you didn't even liked that guy really, he was just a distraction from the fact you liked the hookups with the ghostface a little too much. you weren't able to get to know him, since matt was quick to move him out of the way. though you found yourself being careless to his death, since finding on his phone that he only wanted to use you anyway, just like matt said.

"yeah, i... uh, i mean, if i cared about him and his death, i wouldn't meet with you again—"

"and why was there a police car drivin' around my neighborhood, hm?" matt wanted to believe you, knowing that if you won't convince him of your innocence, then... well, things may go in a direction he doesn't want them to go. "it... it has to be a coincidence..." you swallow nervously, trying not to look away. it was the truth, you really didn't say anything, not really figuring out why. you could set him off fast, matt knew it too, but he just craved you so much, he couldn't bring himself to leave you alone.

"is it now?" he whispers into your ear, moving his tip along your dripping folds, before teasing you with stopping at you entrance, knowing how desperate and unsatisfied you still were. you whine in response, "do you think i'd just let you into my room, if it wasn't a... oh, shit—"

with one sudden movement he entered you again, starting moving with the same hard pace as before, which made you moan out loud. "c'mon, sweetheart, keep... keep talkin'... tell me more, make me believe you, yeah? fuckk, 'cause i wanna... i wanna believe you—" a low groan escapes his lips when you wrap your legs around his hips, making him go even deeper.

"i... didn't care about that guy anyway—" the sounds of you two rasping, the choked moans leaving you and skin slipping against each other filling the room, the wet sound coming from you now louder. "i lied for you, i could tell them everything about us, b-but i... oh!" matt speeds up, making your stomach drop over and over again, but you continue, "-- i... i lied for you even if i don't really know you either, i didn't even see your face..."

a hoarse, low laugh escapes matt, "oh, really now? you tryin' to make me feel bad f'you or somethin'?"

"what?! n-no! i just..."

"i don't think you understand what it means if i take that mask off." his thrusts started being more urgent and hard, immediately making you clench around him and finally getting the release you so desperately needed. matt curses under his breath, feeling how your sticky walls suck him in while you cry out of pleasure, desperately gripping the sheets to hold onto something. "shiiittt... here you go... making this pretty little mess on my cock..."

he doesn't change his pace at all causing you to whine and making it impossible for you to stay still. matt shifts, putting your legs over his shoulders, gripping your thighs tightly, this new angle allowing him to hit your g-spot more intensely. the overstimulation hurts so good, you can't keep your eyes open.

"y'really wanna see my face, huh?" he grunts softly at the feeling of you squeezing him so hard, "but that... changes everything for you... mmhm, oh fuck—"

this whole time matt was sure that he would never show you his identity, knowing that it would complicate things and if something went wrong between you two then... he would have to deal with it in his own crazy way, doing things that he wouldn't want to do to you. but there was something more inside him, a bit of insecurity about what you would say, whether you would actually like him or if you would just immediately kick him out the door and never speak to him again. and this mask hid his shyness, without it he felt so... exposed. yet a part of him wanted to see your reaction, wanted to know what will you do.

"are you sure?" he asks while still pounding into you, but you're so lost in pleasure, you don't even know what he's asking about. "'cause y'know, sweetheart... you won't be able to get rid of me completely, once i do this..."

hearing your quiet, weak "please", matt slows down just slightly and before he could overthink his decision, he grabs the bottom edge of the mask and pulls it off in one swift movement. and that's when you see him.

the moment your eyes meet, he freezes and stops moving inside of you, his fingers pressing into your thigh a little more like he was still trying to maintain control, even if his heart was pounding in his chest. you look at him with wide, aroused eyes, feeling your breath was taken away. he was so... handsome. beautiful. it seemed like you could say he was an angel and it wouldn't be the least bit dramatic.

you didn't know what to focus on, you were so overwhelmed by his beauty. his facial features, that sharp, defined jaw, the prominent cheekbones... but his very blue eyes were doing the main job here, his gaze was so intense, it made you feel small. and those pink lips that just looked so kissable.

now when he was finally without the ghostface mask, you were able to notice more details, like for example the silver chain on his neck, the earrings or how his messy brown hair looked so fluffy, making you want to run your hand through it.

and also the fact that you've already seen him before. now you remembered where you know his voice from. "matt?" you finally speak up quietly, almost hesitatingly, but he hears you and it's enough to make his breath hitch in his throat.

"you..." his voice cracks slightly, a small frown appearing between his eyebrows. clearing his throat, he continues, "you, uh.. remember?"

if you remember? how could you not? that one party a few weeks ago where a guy approached you halfway through. you remember that he was so... almost shy? you were talking like crazy while he was mostly just staring, but he introduced himself. matt. you remembered him because he had such nice tattoos, you couldn't stop staring at his arm.

"yeah, i.... of course i remember."

for him it was like a punch in the gut. he would never think that you remembered him from that party. he was hypnotized by you, just staring at you while you talked, which made him believe he made himself look like a fool in your eyes. this whole interaction was also short, because he quickly realized about his not so little problem he had in his pants, just from staring at you and listening to your voice. so he quickly left you alone, having been obsessed with you ever since.

so matt was just convinced that you thought of him as some weirdo, that you forgot about him as soon as he disappeared from your sight at that party. he was sure that when you'd see his face you would freak out, but you... you looked intrigued. he noticed something in your eyes that he couldn't necessarily name. maybe he just imagined it.

licking his lips, he puts your legs back on the mattress and pulls his black hoodie over his head, allowing you to see his tattoos. it really was him. "i didn't have the chance to tell you this then, but, uh..." you swallow a bit nervously, gently touching his arm, tracing the lines of his tattoos with your finger, unconsciously causing matt to lose his mind. "-- i really think they suit you."

that was it for matt.

letting out a low groan, he starts moving again, but this time slower, though still making sure you feel his dick deep. he now towers over you and after a moment of just eye contact, you feel his lips on yours, which stole a quiet, surprised whimper from you.

and for some reason he stayed over night this time. you were sure you wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow, being too sore, but you didn't care, not being able to get enough of him. you wanted to learn his body by heart. somehow it felt right even if it shouldn't.

a/n: hope you guys like it!! this is kinda basically the "last" part, there won't be any other long part like this but i still wanna continue this au!! so if you have any requests or idk questions about ghostface!matt just write them in my inbox, i'd loooveee to continue with this story if y'all want me to. but i'd mostly make it short, maybe as oneshots or something like that. xoxo.

@certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420

[dollarbils]

admit you want me | b.e.

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. billie, your roommate, starts a fight with you which soon gets heated.

warnings. violent language, harsh insults, physical violence, mean!billie, smut.

request masterlist

you’d both forgotten why you were fighting. something about billie’s lifestyle, particularly the many women you’ve woken up to using your towels, in your shared bathroom. but it had escalated into much more, insults hastily thrown left and right.

“oh my god, quit bitching.” the tips of her hands pushed your shoulders away from her, causing you to stumble back. disbelief plastered on your face, however, still choosing to ignore it.

“i’ll quit bitching, if you quit being such a god damn whore.” she went silent and you regretted it immediately, her temper wasn’t one to mess with and now that you had, it sparked an inkling of fear.

“what the fuck did you just call me.” she grabbed your shoulders but you quickly pushed her off you, fighting her physically instead of answering the question.

“fucking quit it!” she yelled before losing it and pushing you harshly against the wall, pinning your arms by your side with immense protest from your side.

“repeat what you said.” she said it as if she hadn’t heard you. no, she hadn’t fully believed she heard you.

“you heard me perfectly, billie.” her tongue poked her cheek as she chuckled.

“repeat it, i dare you.” she taunted, expecting your defeat. you’d never usually stood up to her this much, you’d always put up with her bullshit excuses in the past.

“i asked you to quit being a whore.” she nodded her head a couple times, taking in your words.

“i was hoping i’d misheard you.” her eyes tore past your facade, staring deep into your own.

“nope.” you’d mustered all the confidence you had left, knowing you’d break within the next minute. your hands were already numb from the force at which she had your wrists locked to the wall.

“i think you should take some time to reevaluate.” she suggested, moving dangerously close to your face.

“hm, i don’t think i need to.” she pushed her body against yours as you groaned, her lips brushing yours when she opened them to speak again.

“no? i mean it’s hypocritical really.” you raised your brow and she fake-pouted, mocking you.

“how the fuck is it hypocritical?” her clothed breasts were pushed up against yours, and you’d lingered on the thought for a second to long, but you kept up the strong face.

“don’t act like your not a little whore yourself.” she was teasing you purely for her amusement now, the fight long forgotten. her focus had moved to breaking you. cracking you open. ruining your perspective of your own innocence.

“i’m not going to entertain this for your pleasure, billie. fuck off.” she mocked your tone of voice and you rolled your eyes, she was so fucking childish.

“trust me i’ve got an entirely different view of what my pleasure is. teasing you barely makes top fifty.” she retorted, dismissing any hint of enjoyment in talking to you.

“top fifty? what an honor.” it was your turn to mock her, and she lifted your chin, her eye’s menacing as she looked at you.

“you’re such a fuckin’ brat.” she shook her head, reflecting on her words.

“it turns you on doesn’t it.” this time you’d truly caught her off guard, as her expression visibly shifted.

“what’s got you so brave today?” she deflected from the comment, neither affirming nor denying.

“maybe I’m just sick of your bullshit.” you brought the heated conversation back to the topic of your fight.

“my bullshit?” she seethed, daring you to voice what exactly her bullshit was.

“yes your fucking bullshit. your out here fucking different girls every night, which i wouldn’t have a problem with if you weren’t so goddamn loud, and if they had the common decency not to use my towels. i’m doing like twenty loads of laundry each week!” she had to stop herself from laughing at your outburst.

“this is all over some fuckin’ towels?” she raised her brow in disbelief.

“no! it’s the principle!” frustration coated your words, she didn’t get it.

“so all i’m getting from this is that you’re jealous.” she shrugged her shoulders and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. she kept her tone calm and collected, while you were practically raging at her.

“wha- jealous? how the fuck did you come up with that nonsense?” she chuckled when you defended yourself.

“nonsense is a bit dramatic, babe.” she licked her teeth, the term of endearment catching you off guard.

“don’t call me that.” you huffed, she was no longer holding you against your will, and it had come to your attention. you weren’t fully sure why you were still stationed against the wall, giving her the space to tower over you.

“why not?” she teased, this was all a game to her.

“because it’s not going to be that easy to get into my pants.” she laughed softly again.

“and what makes you think that’s what i want?” she poked her cheek with her tongue, hypocritically staring at your lips.

“you’re not the best at hiding it.” she smiled though you thought she’d take offense to the comment.

“yeah? i think you like the attention though.” she bit her lip as she leaned in, closer to your face, testing the waters before she made any sort of commitment.

“mm, maybe.” you shrugged your shoulders playfully but she just kept staring down at you.

“so are you gonna admit it or not?” she tilted her head in question.

“admit what?” she shook her head slightly, as if to warn you not to play dumb.

“admit you want this,” she tightened her grasp on your waist, “admit you want me.”

“nope.” she bit her lip at your response, god it turned her on when you denied her.

“that’s a shame.” she grabbed your chin and her lips met yours, hot and fiery as she pushed you further into the wall. you kissed her back almost instantly, not welcoming her, but submitting to her as if you had no choice. your rationality had fled but you couldn’t care less, her lips too soft, too plump, too warm to think about anything else.

“damn.” she broke away, as breathless as you, her heart racing yours.

“yeah, uh. that was-” you were flustered, not knowing what to do with yourself or your words.

“js’ shut up.” she brought her lips to yours again, this time forcing herself into your mouth, tongues dancing as she backed you through the door and into her bedroom. she continued kissing you while she took control of your movements, only breaking away to push you onto the bed.

“billie.” you called as she unzipped her jeans, soon doing the same to yours.

“mhm? get used to saying’ that.” you rolled your eyes, continuing your previous sentence.

“how many girls have you fucked in this bed?” she raised an eyebrow, figuring out wether you were serious or not.

“why? jealous?” she didn’t answer the question.

“not by a long shot, just curious.”

“mhm. sure.” she ignored the question completely, forgetting about what you’d said.

“open up.” she gestured to your mouth, and soon her saliva met the back of your throat, as she stared at you, silently instructing you to swallow.

“look who’s bein’ a good girl all of a sudden. such a slut, taking everything i give you.” her words were contradictory, but you didn’t bother pointing it out, blaming it on her chaotic mind.

“nothin’ to say?” her strap dug into your thigh when she hovered above your face.

“fuck y-” she smirks as she breaks up your words with the tip of her strap gliding across your entrance.

“what was that?” your face shys away from her, eyes closing and turning your head to the side. she makes an effort to express her discontent with this, pulling your face by your cheeks, forcing you to look at her.

“bil.” your plea didn’t go unnoticed and she held your hips to stop you from squirming.

“what?” you pouted when she didn’t move from her position.

“billie.” she bit her lip, enjoying how filthy her name sounded when it came out of your lips like that.

“you can keep whining my name but it won’t tell me what you want.” she shrugged her shoulders, her lips tracing patterns against your neck as your breaths grew heavy.

“please, i need-” she sunk her strap into you slightly, stealing way your breath as your mouth fell open. god she wanted to take a picture, having you like this was so hot.

“hm? what do you need? admit it baby, come on.” you still didn’t reply, testing her patience.

“okay, i’ll help you out a bit yeah? do you want this? my strap?” she wished she was recording, having had no proof of you agreeing to her words when you nodded your head.

“yes, bil. please.” she would’ve teased you further, but she couldn’t resist pushing into you. losing herself in the process.

“i want you.” you’d said once your walls had adjusted to her size, clenching around it in attempt for friction.

“if only you could see yourself now, my whore.” she smirked down at you, gliding her strap in and out very subtly watching you fall apart.

“mm, billie.” you gave in, moaning her name openly now, watching her enjoy it more than she’d ever let on.

“mhm? what’s up baby?” her hands travelled around your breasts, warm against her skin.

“harder pl-please.” now she really wished she’d been recording.

“what was that?” she asked you to repeat yourself, fastening her hands on your hips as she continued diving into you.

“billie.” her movements quickened, sending you back against the pillow.

“i didn’t hear you, babe.” her grin was all you needed to see to know she definitely had heard you.

“harder please.” you whined again, for the last time you hoped.

“god, you’re sexy.” her teeth pulled her lip back as she watched you come undone on her strap, begging for release and then begging for more.

[fireya-x]

hey! i just wanted to say that i love your writing. you have the most amazing style and idk if youre accepting asks rn but pls ignore if not.

would you ever consider writing a fic about john price/reader where reader is like sick for a couple days or maybe gone for a while and hes been totally deprived and all when you finally are feeling better/home, then he just absolutely loses all of his gentlemanly ways and jumps you the moment he can get it again??

maybe a little inspired by this gif -- https://www.tumblr.com/posseydonn/765988062279909376/lets-not-sleep-without-making-love?source=share

Thank you! That means so much 🥰

And of course! I was so excited when I saw this. You're the first to request, and it made me so happy. I hope this is okay, and again, thanks so much for the ask!

coming home

AO3 Link (full tag list) || masterlist

John Price x Reader

Three weeks apart is three weeks too long for John.

[3,5k words]

cw: smut, piv sex, oral sex, cunnilingus, blow job, come swallowing, smoking

You entered the meeting room, a soft “Sorry I’m late” escaping your lips, breathless as your eyes met Kate’s. She smiled, and the room, thankfully, seemed less concerned with your tardiness and more captivated by your return.

“There she is!” Gaz called out, a grin splitting his face.

“Don’t worry about it.” Kate said at the same time and gestured for you to sit down.

“Lassie! Good to see ye again!” Soap exclaimed, a gentle slap on your shoulder accompanying his greeting as you sat beside him.

Ghost’s masked face gave nothing away, but you could have sworn you saw a slight nod in your direction when your eyes met. Several other soldiers offered their greetings, but your attention was drawn to the man standing next to Kate. Their voices, addressing the room, held the familiar cadence of teachers instructing a class. His features, however, softened noticeably the moment you entered, and you suspected the newer recruits could thank you for the subtle shift in John's demeanour. Tasks were assigned and mission preparations discussed, a mission you’d been desperately wanted to be back in the field for.

You'd been confined to your home for the past three weeks, battling a nasty flu. Fever, headaches, an upset stomach – the whole miserable package. You'd warned everyone to steer clear, not wanting to share the misery. John, though you suspected he wanted to argue, had obeyed. You knew he was itching to fuss over you, to bring you tea and take your temperature like he’d done countless times before. But his care manifested in other ways. Canned soup and chocolate – clearly a Price-approved selection – appeared mysteriously on your doorstep. A week's worth of groceries materialized thanks to Soap and Ghost. And Gaz's mum, bless her, managed to stock your medicine cabinet better than a pharmacy.

As the meeting for the day was concluded and everyone slowly left the room, Price stopped you in your tracks with a raised hand. “Stay behind a moment, love.”

When the room was empty, he closed the distance between you, his hands settling on your shoulders. “Why didn’t you call? I would have picked you up.” 

You shuffled your feet, avoiding his gaze, suddenly shy under his intense scrutiny. “Doctor cleared me, and I came straight here,” you explained, gesturing vaguely towards the front of the room, where he had been standing moments ago. “Didn’t want to bother you. You were clearly busy.”

“Never a bother,” he murmured, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin. “Next time, call me. Okay?”

You leaned into his touch, a wave of relief washing over you. The simple contact made you acutely aware of how much you’d missed him. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, a small smile playing on your lips as you met his gaze. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a gesture that sent a wave of comforting warmth through you.

“It’s good to have you back.” He exhaled heavily, tension easing from his shoulders. “The boys were driving me insane.”

You chuckled. “You love them.”

 “I do. Not as much as you, though.”

You rolled your eyes at the cheesy line, but a warmth bloomed in your chest. He lifted your chin with a gentle finger. “Promise me if you’re not feeling well, you won’t play tough and tell me immediately, yeah?”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good.”

“Gotta go train the new kids, I suppose,” you sighed theatrically.

“I don’t envy you.” He grimaced.

“I’ll have to put my Price voice on.” You grinned, anticipating his reaction.

He raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Price voice?”

You cleared your throat, mimicking his gruff tone. “You muppets! Twenty pushups, now!”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “I do not sound like that.”

“You wish you’d sound as sweet as I do.” You winked, and he chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist as you walked together down the corridor. He paused at his office door, leaning in for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yes, Captain.” You smiled, saluting playfully, which earned you another eye roll as he disappeared inside.

The day wore on, the relentless rain and wind a constant, chilling presence on the training grounds. You watched the new recruits struggle through the obstacle course, their movements hampered by the slick mud and the biting wind. You, at least, had the small comforts of proper gear. These poor souls, battling the weather in addition to the gruelling physical demands – it brought back memories of your own training. The endless drills, Price’s watchful gaze, his voice a constant bark of commands, pushing you, testing your limits. No trace of the tenderness he showed you now. Back then, it had been all business, grit, and determination.

But it earned you a place on the 141, and you didn't regret a single moment.

As the last recruit, mud-caked and drenched, stumbled across the finish line, you offered a nod of acknowledgement. “Passable time, soldier,” you stated, pointing towards the last stretch of obstacles, “but that last part needs to be faster. Work on your agility in these conditions. Life or death out in the field.” The recruit saluted, exhaustion etched on their pale face, before joining the rest of the group.

Dismissing them with a sweep of your hand, you advised, “Get yourselves dried off and warmed up.” You could practically feel the welcome relief of hot showers and a decent meal yourself as you watched them disperse, shivering. Heading for the nearest entrance, you discarded your heavy weather gear with a sigh of relief.

A voice called out, “Sergeant?” Turning, you recognized the young recruit from the cafeteria, his waterproof jacket plastered to his thin frame as he hurried towards you. He pointed a finger down the hall. “Captain Price wants to talk to you.”

Your heart quickened, a nervous flutter in your stomach. Smoothing down your damp uniform and clutching the training reports, you made your way toward Price’s office, that nervous flutter intensifying with each step. You knocked lightly, the sound muffled by the heavy door.

“You wanted to talk to me?” you began, pushing it open. “Oh, I already have the reports here –”

“Lock the door.” Price’s command cut you short, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. A freshly lit cigar was clenched between his teeth, a plume of smoke curling upwards.

Your breath hitched, momentarily stunned by his command. The facade of your professionalism crumbled under the weight of his gaze. “What?”

His eyes bored into you. He jerked his chin towards the door, the unspoken command crystal clear. “Do it, and get over here.” A blush warmed your cheeks as you obeyed, the click of the lock echoing in the sudden silence.

You crossed the room, dropping the reports on his desk as you rounded it, coming to a stop before him. His hand shot out, gripping your wrist, pulling you towards him with a force that made you gasp. The movement was almost violent, and he didn’t even waste a breath before your training briefs were bunching around your ankles as he shoved them down. His touch was rough, brutal and yet undeniably possessive.

The heat of him against your sudden bare skin was like an electric shock, making the hairs on your skin stand up, igniting a fire that had been smouldering for past weeks. His mouth was suddenly between your thighs, biting your sensitive flesh through the fabric of your panties, eliciting a moan from your lips. 

“Christ, John, what –” you breathed, the words lost against another nip of his teeth. He forced his tongue against the damp fabric and his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your backside as he growled against your skin. “Fuck, I've missed you.”

“We’re at work,” you protested weakly, even as your hands found their way into his hair, desperate for something to hold on to.

He pulled back slightly and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Has that ever stopped us before?”

You shook your head, a breathless laugh escaping you. “I guess not.”

With a quick, almost savage tear, your panties were gone. The cool air against your heated skin made you shiver. He murmured against your skin, his voice low and husky, “I’m not going to fire you for fucking your boss, sweetheart.” A trail of scorching kisses followed his words, his lips branding your inner thighs.

“Very funny,” you chuckled, hands finding their way back into his hair, and without a warning, his tongue parted your folds. The contact with your clit was an unexpected intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. He pushed you back against the desk, your legs parting instinctively as his fingers joined the fray. He lapped at your slickness, his tongue swirling and circling, his beard scratching the skin, while his fingers teased the entrance of your hole. 

He devoured you, his hunger insatiable, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony to bring you to the brink. You could feel the pressure building, coiling tight in your belly, the pleasure intensifying with each lick, each touch, each stolen breath. “John,” you gasped, and he groaned in response, the sound thick with desire, but then, his own need overriding yours, he pulled back abruptly. The sight, the taste, the feel of you was too much. He needed to be inside you. With a low growl, he lifted you onto the cool surface of the desk, scattering the forgotten reports beneath you like fallen leaves.

“Shouldn’t you be looking at those reports?” you managed, a weak attempt at humour.

He shook his head, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. “The only thing I should be doing is you.”

As he moved above you, your gaze traced the familiar lines of his body. The faint, silvery scars that crisscrossed his skin, a roadmap of his life, each one an etched memory of battles fought and won. The dark hair dusting his chest and narrowing down to the meticulously trimmed line of his pubic hair – a detail that sent a wave of heat through you, the knowledge that he’d been ready for you, waiting for this moment, just as you had been. 

His cock, thick and veined, throbbed before you. The tip, a darker shade of pink, almost crimson with arousal, glistened in the dim light of the office, the precum already beading there like glistening dew. The velvety texture, the subtle ridges and curves of its form – it was a thing of beauty, of raw power. And it belonged to him, to the man who made you feel things no one else could. Safe. Cherished. Desired.

It had been weeks – an eternity – since you’d felt this way. The way he looked at you, his eyes dark and intense, focused solely on you, made you feel seen, loved, like you were the only person in the world.

The initial slow burn of his entry ignited a fire within you, a slow, steady warmth that spread through your body. As he settled fully inside you, a sigh escaped your lips. It was a feeling of homecoming, of finally returning from a long and arduous journey, of finding your way back to the place where you belonged. It was more than just pleasure; it was a sense of rightness, of two halves becoming whole. You revelled in the feeling of fullness, of completion, of finally having him back where he belonged. 

You could feel every inch of him, the subtle ridges and curves of his length pressing against your inner walls, the velvety head brushing against your most sensitive point, sending shivers of anticipation radiating outwards. He leaned down, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss, and the taste of him, of cigar smoke and desire and longing, filled your senses. 

As the kiss deepened, his rhythm intensified, the slow burn giving way to a wildfire. The languid thrusts became more insistent, more demanding. The rhythmic slap of skin against skin echoed in the quiet office, punctuated by the creak of the desk beneath you. His mouth moved to nip and suck at your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through your already sensitized nerves. His touch was a brand that marked you as his, a delicious reminder of his possession. His fingers found your clit, rubbing, circling, adding yet another layer of exquisite torture to the inferno already burning within you. 

The pressure built, the pleasure intensifying with each thrust, each touch, each stolen breath. And then, it hit you – an explosion of pure, unadulterated bliss, a blinding white light that obliterated all thought. You threw your arms around his back, your nails digging into his skin. Your body convulsed, pressing against him, clamping down on his cock as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, each one more intense than the last. He held you steady, his strong arms a comforting anchor and his voice a low murmur against your ear. “That's my girl,” he whispered, the words a balm to your soul as the tremors subsided, leaving you spent and sated in his embrace. 

Still pleasure-drunk, your mind hazy with the afterglow of your climax, you pushed him off you and breaking the connection. He stumbled back, a flicker of confusion in his eyes, but he didn’t intervene, his gaze following your every move as you slid off the desk. He let himself be pushed back into his chair, his chest heaving, his cock still slick and hard.

Reaching for the earlier discarded cigar in the ashtray, you brought it to your lips, inhaling deeply, the familiar taste making your head spin. As you exhaled, your gaze locked with his, a predatory glint in your eyes. With slow, deliberate movements, you began to play with the cigar, rolling it between your fingers, letting it linger at the corner of your mouth, dragging it across your lips as if savouring the taste, the tip tracing the same path his tongue had taken only moments before. The act, a shameless innuendo, was a way of reclaiming your power, of teasing him, of showing him that you weren't done with him yet. You ran your tongue along the length of it, the tip glistening in the dim light of the office.

He watched, transfixed, his breath hitching in his throat, every muscle in his body coiled tight with a tension that bordered on painful. You were putting on a show, a performance designed solely for him, and it was driving him absolutely insane. The way you practically fucked the cigar, deep throating it with a practised ease that made his blood run hot, was both absurd and incredibly erotic. 

His gaze was riveted on your lips, the way they stretched and pulsed around the cigar, the tip disappearing into the depths of your mouth, then reappearing, slick and glistening. Your tongue, darting out to lick the tip, to swirl around the base, made him growl involuntarily. 

Your cheeks hollowed with each deep drag, the sight making his own breath come in short, ragged gasps. It was blatant, mimicking a far more intimate act, a performance designed to tease and torment, and it was working perfectly. He could practically feel your mouth on him, the heat, the pressure, the rhythmic pull – it had been weeks of forced abstinence, and he knew that no one else could make him feel this way; this desperate, this utterly and completely out of control.

His cock, still red and swollen, throbbed and twitched in agonizing response and the pre-come slowly leaked onto his skin. His balls ached with a desperate need for release, a pressure that built with each drag you took on the cigar, each moan that escaped your lips, each flick of your tongue. The need to touch himself, to find some small measure of relief, was almost overwhelming. 

Not being able to bear it any longer, his hand instinctively moved towards his aching hardness, but you stopped him, your fingers gently but firmly closing around his wrist. 

“Not yet, Captain,” you purred, your voice husky with amusement. You held his gaze, your eyes sparkling with mischief, and brought the cigar back to your lips, taking one last, long drag. Letting he smoke fill your lungs before you leaned in, your lips brushing against his. You exhaled slowly, deliberately, the plume of smoke swirling into his mouth, teasing his tongue with the lingering taste of the tobacco, the heat of your breath, and the promise of more. 

He groaned, a low rumble in his chest, and his tongue darted out, attacking your mouth, desperate to taste you, to reclaim the connection that had been broken only moments before. The kiss was fierce, hungry, his tongue probing deep, seeking out yours, tangling with it in a desperate dance of need. He wanted you, all of you, right there, right then, but you pulled back, a teasing smile playing on your lips. With a slow, deliberate movement, you placed the cigar between his lips. 

Then, trailing a line of kisses down his chest, across the hard planes of his stomach, each touch sending shivers through his already aroused body, you reached your destination. He groaned, his hands finding their way to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as you knelt before him, his hardness pressing against your cheek. 

You took him in your mouth, the taste of him – salty and musky – mingling with the lingering flavour of the cigar and the faint, sweet taste of yourself. You swirled your tongue around him, appreciating the feel of him against your lips, the heat of him radiating against your skin. You sucked hard, the pull creating a friction that made him groan, his hips bucking involuntarily against your mouth. You bobbed your head, setting a slow, steady rhythm, your eyes never leaving his, watching as his expression shifted from desire to pure pleasure. You increased the pressure, the pace, drawing him deeper into your mouth, feeling the throb of his pulse against your tongue and the way his cock pulsed and twitched with each pull of your lips.

You ran your tongue along the underside of his length, before playing a soft kiss to the tip, teasing him, driving him closer to the edge. He groaned again, the sound barely audible, a strangled whimper of pleasure lost somewhere between a sob and a curse.

You continued, relentless, taking him fully into your mouth again with a passion fuelled by the weeks of pent-up longing. You felt him tense, the muscles in his thighs clenching as he reached his peak. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and a shudder ran through his entire body. His grip on your hair tightened, his knuckles white against your scalp. “Fuck… yes,” he groaned, the words barely audible. “So good... love... bloody hell…” 

His voice trailed off into a series of incoherent moans and gasps as he spilled into your mouth, the hot rush of his release coating your throat. You moaned when the taste hit you, salty and musky, and so intoxicatingly him. You could feel the heat, the force of it, as he emptied himself into you – the rhythmic contractions of his cock, the feeling of him throbbing within your mouth, how the ridge of his length pulsated against your tongue with each spurt – it sent shivers down your spine. You continued to suckle gently, even after the initial rush subsided, your tongue swirling around him, cleaning him, wanting to draw every last drop of him, to cherish the intimacy of the moment, to prolong the connection for as long as possible. With a final, loving kiss against the tip, you pulled back, leaving him breathless.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes still dark with desire, but now softened with a tenderness reserved only for you. He reached down, his hand gently cupping your chin, tilting your face up to his. He brushed a stray strand of hair away from your forehead, his touch feather-light. “I missed you,” he murmured. “I was worried sick. So glad you’re alright.” 

You smiled, a playful glint in your eyes. “Couldn't even wait until we got home?” You teased, still settled between his thighs, reaching up to run a finger along his jawline, feeling the familiar prickle of his beard. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “No chance, love. Not a bloody chance.” You leaned forward, resting your head against the hard muscles of his thigh, your fingertips dancing lightly along his skin. “Want to grab some dinner and stay with me tonight?” you asked, almost hesitant. 

He met your gaze, a warmth spreading through his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. He reached forward then, lifting you up into his lap effortlessly. "Like you even have to ask," he murmured, his hands gently caressing your back, drawing soft circles. 

“Let's go then?” he asked softly after a while. 

You sighed, closing your eyes, letting the peace of the moment wash over you. “Just a minute.” He didn't reply, but his arms tightened around you, holding you close, and in that silent embrace, you found everything you had been missing in the last weeks: the comfort of his presence, the security of his touch, the certainty of his love. You were home.

[silverb0wties]

Lemonade - Part 5

leah williamson x alessia russo x child!reader

Summary: When something bad happens to your Mummy and Daddy, you end up living with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah.  But is there room for you considering they have a new baby on the way?

Chapter Summary: the aftermath of your concussion

Warnings: pregnancy, self-harm, disordered eating, bullying

a/n: sorry if this chapter is a little bit dark in parts. if you're still reading the series, thanks so much for sticking with me. I appreciate it more than you know.

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 ||

PART 5

You woke up on a plastic bed in a room that smelled like the awful cream your Mummy would rub on her legs after Netball, surrounded by a million different kinds and colours of sellotape.

You could hear voices, and you looked over to the corner of the room to find your Aunty Leah consoling your Aunty Lessi as she cried.  She looked distraught, her eyes red and puffy with tears.

“I should have known it would overwhelm her.  I was just so excited to share this with her…”

“Babe, she’s going to be okay.  We’re still learning all this, yeah?”

“But we’re meant to protect her, and… and I- I…” Aunty Lessi choked on her words before Aunty Leah cut her off.

“And I should have had a tighter grip on her when I saw she was panicking.  Like I said, we’re both still learning how to do this.  The medics said she’s got a bit of a concussion, but she’ll be alright.  We know how concussions work, so we’ve just got to keep our eyes on her and make sure she gets lots and lots of rest.”

There was a quiet knock at the door, before an important looking lady with a clipboard came in.

“Less, sorry but we need to know if you’re going to play the second half or not?” she asked.

As your Aunties turned toward the door, they realised that you were awake.

“Oh Bunny, sweetie, you’re awake.  How are you feeling?” your Aunty Lessi rushed over to you, her hands coming down to gently cradle the sides of your head.

You looked up at her a bit stunned, rather confused about why you were where you were and why everyone seemed so upset.

“Does your head hurt?  Do you feel sick or dizzy at all?” she asked, her hand softly brushing through your hair.

You tried to think about if you felt sick or dizzy, but all you could really feel was a powerful throbbing rattling through your head.  You also felt really, really tired.  But you had just woken up, so that could perhaps explain that.  You don’t remember going to sleep though, which was starting to concern you.

“I feel okay,” you replied, trying to brush away your Aunty’s concern.

“Alessia, sorry, we need t-” the lady at the door began to ask again.

“I won’t be playing, sorry.  My family is more important right now,” Aunty Lessi told her.

“Less, you should go play.  I’ll stay with Bunny and make sure she’s-”

Your Aunty Lessi whipped around to face Aunty Leah. “No, Leah.  I’m not leaving her.  She’s hurt.   We’ll get a car to take us back to the training centre so we can go home early,” she insisted firmly.

Aunty Leah replied with a sad smile and a nod.  “I’ll go get our stuff packed up then, yeah?”

“I’m okay Aunty Lessi, you should play!” you tried to insist.

“No Bunny, there would be no point in me playing anyways.  I would be so distracted out there and worrying about you I would probably kick the ball into the wrong goal by mistake.”

By the time you finally got back home that night, your head was still pounding and you were struggling to stay awake.  You were trying your hardest to be big and brave and pretend like you were okay, but as soon as you stepped into bath, your whole façade fell apart.  As the warm water lapped at your tense muscles, which you now realised you’d been clenching in an effort to distract from the pain in your head, your resolve melted and you began to weep.

You brought your knees up to your chest and dropped your head forward, your hands entwining at the back of your head as your little body shook with each sob.  The tears and jagged breaths only intensified the pain in your head though, which in turn caused more tears and jagged breaths.  You tried your hardest to stay as quiet as possible, but you were aware that your cries were becoming increasingly vocal.

There was soon a soft knock at the door, followed by your Aunty Lessi’s voice.  Whilst making sure you still got clean and dressed, your Aunties had always tried to give you your privacy while bathing and dressing, which you appreciated.  They were your Aunties, but it still felt weird being undressed around people who weren’t your parents.

“Bunny?  Are you okay?” she called through the closed door.

“It hurts” you cried in response.

“What hurts honey?”

“Everything.  My head hurts most.”

“How about we give you some medicine to make it hurt less, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“And then we can get you to bed, and you can try and get some rest, alright?”

“Okay.”

There was a short pause.  You’d assumed your Aunty had gone away to get the medicine, but then you heard her voice again.

“Bun, you don’t always have to try and be big and brave y’know?  If you’re hurting, you can tell us.  Always.  I promise you won’t be in trouble or we won’t make fun of you or anything.  We just want you to feel okay.”

“Okay.”

You didn’t fully believe her.  You wanted to, but a part of you still believed that there was only so much love and affection to go around and you needed to space that out at least until Lemonade arrived.  You didn’t want to use it all up on this incident.

So you tried your hardest to push the pain down and away as you quickly washed yourself.  You managed to get yourself up and out of the bath and wrapped in a towel before there was a knock at the door again.

“You can come in,” you mumbled, making sure the towel was secured tightly under your arms.

Your Aunty Lessi entered with a little cup filled with pink medicine and a cup of water.  She kneeled down to your height as she offered it to you.

“Now it says strawberry flavoured on the bottle, so hopefully it won’t taste too bad.”

You gingerly took the cup and gulped the medicine down, wincing at the distinctly fake strawberry taste.  You quickly grabbed the cup of water from your Aunty’s other hand and skulled that down to wash away the lingering flavour.

“Good job, Bun.  Now let’s get you into your PJ’s and into bed, yeah?”

By the time you were under the covers, arms tightly wrapped around your beloved Arthur, the pain in your head had dulled to only a mild ache.

“Goodnight sweet girl” your Aunty Lessi whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Night Aunty Lessi” you mumbled back.

It was the first time you slept through the night without waking up to a nightmare since the fire.

--

You woke up to the smell of Aunty Lessi’s lasagne wafting through the house.  However, as you opened your eyes and came to your senses, you immediately panicked. 

You were not in your own bed. 

You were in your Aunties bed.

You had no idea how you’d come to be in their bed.  The last thing you remembered you were lying on the floor in the loungeroom studying one of the books the Arsenal girls had given you about football.  You were trying to understand where all the different positions were on the pitch and what responsibilities each position had.  You had been figuring out the difference between a centre-back and a full-back when you had… fallen asleep.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Whilst it had been a few days now since your accident and you’d had a couple of days off school and your head no longer hurt, you were still feeling extra extra tired from your concussion.  You’d spent most of that day at school trying to hide your yawns from your teacher and classmates.  When you’d been given some free time after finishing one of your activities ahead of the rest of the class, the same group of students that always seemed to catch you at your weakest had caught you dozing off in the corner of the room where you’d been reading.  They’d tied your shoelaces together and were starting to draw on your arm when you woke up.  You hadn’t realised they’d also put rolled up pieces of paper in your hair braid until your Aunty Leah pointed them out when she picked you up.

You’d tried to brush it off and said it was just a game all the kids were playing with each other, but the concerned frown your Aunty gave you implied she didn’t quite believe your lie.

“You know you can tell us if there’s anything going wrong at school, yeah?  If anyone’s picking on you or calling you names or anything?”

You just nodded.  There was no way you would ever tell your Aunties what was really happening at school.  You would just deal with it like a big girl.  Push through.  Be brave.  They had bigger things to worry about than some kids putting paper in your hair and saying mean things.  Your Aunty Leah was growing a human AND mending her busted knee for heaven’s sake!  You could deal with some silly paper in your hair.

When you’d got back to the house, you went straight to your room to undo your braid and pluck all the little pieces of paper from your hair.  You’d counted them (23 in total) before scrunching them up and throwing them in the little wastepaper basket beside your desk. 

As the paper hit the basket, a tiny ball of raging heat began bubbling in your chest.  You didn’t know what to do with it or how to describe it, but it made you want to stomp your feet and hit a wall and scratch at your skin.  You’d never been the best at describing emotions, but you were pretty certain this wasn’t sadness.  Perhaps, this was anger? Frustration? Disappointment? 

The tiny ball continued to bubble and grow as you lunged for your bed where Arthur lay.  You attempted desperately to use your tried and tested method of rubbing his ear against your cheek to calm the feeling, and whilst it felt nice, it did nothing to soothe your need to stomp or hit or scratch.

You searched your room urgently for something else to ease the searing heat in your chest, even gulping down the remnants of a cup of water on your bedside table.  But nothing worked.  You needed to stomp or hit or scratch.  You knew couldn’t stomp your feet or hit a wall, because that would be loud, and your Aunty would hear and come ask what was wrong.  So, you decided to scratch. 

You had to pick somewhere not too visible so that if you left a mark, nobody would see and ask what happened.  So, you tugged up the hem of your school dress and pushed down your tights and began scratching at the skin at the top of your right thigh.

The relief was instant. 

The second your nails dug into your flesh, the little ball of heat in your chest began to cool.  You scratched and scratched, and scratched some more until it finally, finally disappeared.  By the time you eventually stopped, your skin was stinging, and your fingers were cramping.  But the little ball of heat was gone, and that was all that mattered.

There was a gentle knock on the door as you speedily pulled your tights back up, wincing as they brushed against your newly tender skin.

Your Aunty Leah popped her head in through the door, “Bun, do you want a snack? I got some blueberry muffins from the bakery…”

“Oh… um, yeah, I’ll be right down, just getting that paper out of my hair,” you mumbled, quickly running your fingers through the ends of your messy blonde mane.

“Alright, I’ll pop them in the microwave to warm them up,” she replied before heading back downstairs to do so.

As you heard her footsteps fade away, you turned around and pulled your tights down again, trying with all your might not to release a pained noise as the fabric ripped away from your newly raw skin.  The area you’d scratched was an angry red colour and the skin seemed wet, but there was no blood, which whilst a relief, made no sense to you.

Not wanting to keep your Aunty waiting, you hastily pulled your tights the rest of the way off and threw them in your laundry hamper.  The house was warm enough, but you decided to grab your soft little blanket that had purple and grey clouds, as well as the book on football you had been reading and the little notebook you’d been making notes in (and Arthur of course), and head downstairs.

“Perfect timing Bun, just took them out of the microwave.  Do you want a drink?”

“I’m okay.  Thank you, Aunty Leah, this looks lovely” you replied, climbing up onto a stool in front of the kitchen bench where a little plate with a yummy looking blueberry muffin sat.

“Well, we all know the kitchen is Aunty Lessi’s domain.  That woman can cook like a dream!  But I’m not too shabby at picking out a good pastry.  I guess you could say bread and bread-adjacent foods are my domain,” she teased.

You giggled as you tucked into your muffin, appreciating your Aunty Leah’s silly jokes about how bad at cooking she was and how limited the range of foods she ate was.  Your extended family often seemed to tease her a bit about being a picky eater and she would usually laugh it off or join in on the joke.  But you knew it was something she was actually a bit self-conscious about. 

A few days into your stay here you’d gone to the fridge to grab some milk for your cereal and had accidentally knocked a container off a shelf.  As you bent down to pick it up, you noticed a little letter stuck to the lid that read “Leah, my love, it’s okay if you can’t eat this.  I know you tried and I’m proud of you.  Please just make sure you eat something or at least have a protein smoothie.  For you and for ‘L’.  Love you – xx Less.”  You’d immediately felt guilty for reading it as you rushed to put it back on the shelf, knowing you’d intruded on a bit of your Auntie’s privacy.  You’d seen a few similar little notes stuck to containers since then.  At the time you’d been very confused about what “for you and for ‘L’” meant, but you had since figured out it meant ‘for you and for Lemonade’. 

When you finished your muffin, you wriggled off the stool and headed over to place your plate in the dishwasher.

“Are you done with your plate too, Aunty Leah?” you offered.

“Oh, thanks sweetie, you didn’t have to do that,” she replied as she passed you her plate with a smile.  “Feel free to watch something on the telly if you want.  I’ve got a bit of boring adult housework stuff to catch up on before Aunty Lessi gets home.”

“Is there anything you need help with?” you asked.

“No, no.  I’ve just got to do a couple of loads of laundry and there’s no way I would make you deal with Aunty Lessi’s gross smelly training socks!  It’s bad enough poor little Lemonade is stuck with me and can’t escape from it,” she laughed, jokingly shielding her belly from the smell.

“Is it okay if I just read in the loungeroom?” you asked.

“Of course it is!  Just remember if your head starts to hurt or you’re feeling too tired or anything, to have a rest, yeah?” she smiled at you, stroking her fingers affectionately through your hair.

“I will, thank you.”

So, you made yourself comfortable in a little spot on the loungeroom floor, surrounded by a couple of cushions, the blanket you’d brought down from your room and, of course, Arthur.  Soon you were laying on your belly, nose deep in the book and jotting down notes in your notebook all about what a penalty shootout was and what circumstances led to one.  You drew a little picture of the goal and the line markings and where the goalie had to stand and where the other players had to stand, before turning back to the book to read about in-game penalties when slowly but suddenly you… were… asleep.

The next thing you knew you were waking up in your Auntie’s bed to the smell of your Aunty Lessi’s lasagna.

The realisation hit you like a hundred bolts of lightning.

You’d slept in someone else bed.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Bad things happen when you sleep in someone else’s bed.

The last time you’d slept in someone else’s bed, your house burned down, and your Mummy and Daddy had died.

You jumped out of the bed as though it was burning you, panic rattling all through your little body.

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

Your right hand began hitting at the side of your head before you even knew it was happening.

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

Your other hand clawed at the skin of your neck, scratching determinedly at the tender skin there.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

You tried so hard to stop them, but your feet began to stomp loudly, your whole body seemingly moving with a mind of its own.  Everything around you seemed like it was spinning.  You thought you could smell smoke and when your eyes began to water you weren’t sure if it was because you were crying or if it was because there was actually smoke. 

You vaguely heard a commotion and saw the door swing open, but everything around you continued to spin making you feel like throwing up.  You couldn’t throw up in your Auntie’s bedroom!

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

“Bunny?  Sweetie, what’s going on?”

You could hear your Aunty Lessi’s voice and feel her presence, but the only word you could think was ‘BAD’.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

The word kept falling from your lips and you continued to stomp and hit and scratch.

“Okay, Bun.  I’m going pick you up so you stop hurting yourself sweetie.  I need to make you nice and safe, alright?”

Again, you heard your Aunty but all you could think was ‘BAD’.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

Carefully you felt your Aunty wrap her arms around you, trapping your arms and lifting you off the ground.  You struggled as your body fought to keep hitting and scratching and stomping, but she gently tugged your hands away from your neck and head, tucking them tightly against her chest.

“You’re okay, lovely.  You’re safe, I promise.  It’s just you, me and Aunty Leah here okay.  Nothing bad is going to happen alright?  We’re safe.  You’re safe.  Everything’s okay…”

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

“What do you mean by bad, Bun?” Aunty Lessi asked.

You shook your head, unable to explain yourself.  All you could say was “bad.”

“Oh sweetie, you haven’t done anything bad.  You’re not in any kind of trouble.  I promise.  And nothing bad is going to happen either, okay?” she whispered.

You began to slowly unclench in her arms, comforted by the soothing way she was swaying gently.  Eventually you opened your eyes to see your Aunty Leah standing in the doorway watching on, her face red and blotchy as though she’d been crying.

You immediately came back into your body, realising whatever you’d just done had upset your Aunty Leah.  You tried to wriggle slightly to free yourself from your Aunty Lessi’s grip, but she tightened her hold.

“Not yet sweetie.  I need to what’s going on?  What happened?” she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed with you in her lap.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.  I didn’t mean to be bad and upset Aunty Leah.  I’m so sorry.  I promise I’ll be good.  I promise.”

“Darling, you didn’t upset me” your Aunty Leah assured you as she came over to sit next to Aunty Lessi on the bed.

“But your face is blotchy like you’ve been crying” you replied, your Aunty Lessi finally loosening her grip on her as your reached toward Aunty Leah.

“Well, it’s because I have been, but it’s not because you upset me.  I’m just worried about you is all.  Why were you hurting yourself?” she asked, taking your hand in hers.

“I just had to.  I don’t know.  I just did.  I was bad.”  You jumped off Aunty Lessi’s lap and started pacing on the floor in front of her and Aunty Leah.   “I woke up in this bed and I had no idea why I was in your bed and all I could think was ‘bad’ and I just did it without realising.”

“I washed your sheets and they’re in the dryer.  So, when you fell asleep on the loungeroom floor, I just put you in here for your nap.  I didn’t mean for it to upset you so much, sweetie,” Aunty Leah explained, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

“You didn’t upset me, I just I don’t want you and Aunty Lessi and Lemonade to die too!”

You heard your Aunties gasp at your explanation, but you just kept pacing, trying to figure out a way to stop the inevitable from happening.

“Bunny, oh my goodness, why would Aunty Leah and Lemonade and I die because you had a nap in our bed?”

“Because that’s what happened when I slept in Mummy and Daddy’s bed!”

You watched as your Aunties exchanged a series of looks.  The seemed confused and shocked, which was confusing and shocking to you, because it all seemed so obvious.

“Darling, your Mummy and Daddy didn’t die because you slept in their bed,” Aunty Leah tried to tell you.

“Yes, they did!  They did.  They DID!  I know they did!  It’s the only thing different I did that night from all the other nights.  I had done so so good all summer getting into my big girl routine and kept it up really well for the first couple of weeks of school.  But then… then I slipped up, and I was bad and I asked to sleep in bed with Mummy and Daddy that night.  And and th- the fire happened.  And if I had of been in my own room, I could have got myself out.  Because we’d practiced.  Daddy made sure we practiced.  And and and then… then Da-Daddy wouldn’t have needed to get me out and he could have helped Mummy because of her leg.  And they could have got out too.  But I was bad.  I slept in a bed that wasn’t mine.  When I should have just slept in my own bed, like a good girl.  Like a big girl.  And now they’re dead.  They’re both dead.  And it’s my fault.  And now what if you die too!?”

[papayadays]

🎻 102 + Lando please xx

a/n: ahhhh sasha!! ilysm because i was just so inspired for this 😚

102 — night changes by one direction

“does it ever drive you crazy just how fast the night changes?”

you and lando stepped out the packed venue, hands intertwined. as you two made your way in the throng of people, you were stopped by quite a few people who wanted to talk to the driver’s championship runner up. of course, it was expected at the fia end of year gala. you made sure to dress nice for today, wearing a red dress that had been around for a few years, but was one of your favorites. before you had left, lando was dangerously close to ruining all of your makeup, claiming your dress as the cause.

now, as you two walked out into the cool evening air, the night was wrapping up. lando’s fifth season in f1 was wrapping up. you’d been by his side since his first race and you couldn’t be prouder of how far he’d come. all the highs and lows, you’d seen it all. but it still didn’t quite sink in that it had already been five seasons. five years.

you glanced down at your dress, slightly self-conscious. five years you and lando had been dating. but that was a long time to stay with the same person, especially for a global celebrity with countless of people vying for a chance. you couldn’t help but feel like maybe lando would start to get sick of you, or that his feelings for you would fade over time. it was silly, but with all that time, you felt that you were holding him back in a small sense.

“hey, the gala’s over, no need to fuss over your dress,” lando chuckled, pulling you from your thoughts as he lead you to his car. once you two were in the more secluded area of the parking lot, lando grinned, adding, “and plus, you look beautiful in that dress.”

you smiled, getting into the passenger seat as lando started the car. as the car passed by buildings and towns and parks, your eyes stayed fixed on the moon, casting a glow inside the dim car. the windows were down and the breeze tousled your hair as you tried to stop it from flying. but as you reached a red light, lando didn’t think he had seen a more beautiful sight.

your eyes flitted to the moon once more, mind wandering to all the times you had looked at the moon before, thinking of lando. if only you knew how many times he had done the same. you felt lando take your hand in his, giving it a small squeeze. “lan?” you asked.

“yeah?” he responded, eyes still on the road.

“i’ve been thinking, and it’s already your fifth season,” you said softly. “isn’t it crazy just how fast everything changes?”

lando grinned, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. the mere action made you blush despite all the years being with him. “i wouldn’t have it any other way, love,” he murmured. “and we’re not going to change.”

you turned to look at him. “no?”

“no, of course not,” lando replied, so confidently that hope surged in your chest. “even if everything else is changing, me and you won’t. we’ve made it this far - five whole years. and i can’t wait for the next five. and more. y’know why?”

“why?” you asked, playing along.

“because i love you,” lando said simply, and it made your heart flutter.

you squeezed his hand. “i love you too, lan.” with a smile on your lips, you turned your gaze back to the night sky, content.

joyce's birthday bash! 😽

[arnivold]

Having played Emmrich's romance from start to finish I can say it does a shockingly good job of realistically portraying a romance with a significant age gap, speaking from experience as someone who once dated a guy in his fifties while I was in my twenties

Spoilers under the cut

So when you first start flirting with Emmrich, he doesn't assume you're being serious or doesn't even register it as flirting. Then he realizes what's going on and plays along with it. Then he starts flirting back, and uh oh we both acknowledged there's chemistry and now we have to figure out what we're gonna do with it.

Then you start dating. Or at least you're sorta dating. And your friends notice what's going on and immediately they voice their concerns. Are you sure this is a good idea? Happy for you but do you think maybe you're going a little too fast? Does the older person have bad intentions here? These are all questions the companions and even Hezenkoss ask in banter when you start the romance with Emmrich

And yeah when you first start dating someone new these questions don't seem to matter cause you're in love. You're charmed by Emmrich's gentlemanly ways, Emmrich likes the feeling of having a young person show interest in him because it makes him feel younger so he doesn't have to grapple with his mortality

But then as shit gets more and more serious and you near the end of Act 2, Emmrich wants to have a genuine discussion with you about the relationship. He's concerned that maybe this isn't such a good idea after all, because even though you both have the best of intentions, eventually you will have to deal with losing him and it will be decades before you have to worry about your own death.

And you have to ask yourself, is this serious or not? How are we gonna introduce each other to our families? Are you prepared to care for a sick/elderly spouse in your 40s and 50s? If you want to have children, are you prepared to handle having a partner who is already a generation apart from you and old enough to be your children's grandparent? How will it look when an older person in a teaching position is dating someone the same age as their students?

And for a lot of people these are serious obstacles to having a serious long term relationship! And discussions like that often do end in a fight like it does in Emmrich's romance! It happened to me in my relationship with an older man, too! It didn't work for me in my specific case but some people are able to work that stuff out, and in the case of Rook and Emmrich, they eventually do. But those are important discussions to have when you enter that kind of relationship

Idk man, the whole time I was romancing him I kept hearing the same comments my friends and family made about my relationship, the same arguments and discussions we had about the logistics of that kind of relationship, etc. etc. I figured they were just gonna go the route of indulgent wish fulfilment, and I was left slack-jawed when the game actually delves into the realities of dating in age gaps that large

[bunnys-kisses]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ angel eyes - max v., charles l., carlos s., lando n.,♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

to say that this was casual was an feeble attempt to lie to yourself. as you watched the men in front of you strip. booze and cigarettes passed around with you as the main star. you were growing desperate with time running out. your career felt like it was tethered by a thread. you had seen how easily they cut sargeant and you felt like you were next. your neck on the chopping block for some younger driver that the team could shape into a superstar. but unlike sargeant, you knew how to secure your place.

the men watched you as you got out of the clothes you wore to the track. the alpine shirt over your head, exposing your breasts to them. you could feel their hungry gaze on you. you felt more exposed than at any other point in your life. you were nothing more than meat to be groped and fucked. but their promises hung heavy in your mind as you took off your jeans.

if tonight goes well, then you'll have a seat next season.

carlos was the first to make a comment as charles poured him more wine. the two ferrari men chuckled between one another. you tried to look away, but max's domineering voice cut through, asking for your eyes forward. you weren't going to coward out. lando shifted in his seat and kept his eyes on the curves of your body. this was debauchery, this would be considered sinful across every church in europe. it was a sick affair and it let you running hot. you looked to max and he looked at you over the rim of his glass, he took a drink before he got up from the couch, he went over to you. a hand on the back of your head as he made you look up at him. his other thumb dragged across your bottom lip as he gazed down at you. he asked one you simple thing, are you going to behave tonight? and with everything you had in you. you nodded and said, yes sir. then you were put on your knees to get to work. in front of your audience.

a naked formula one driver kneeling in front of the top four on the track. if the press knew, if your teams knew, it would be a field day. there were many women who yearned for the company of at least one of them. but you had all four of them leering at you and as you were at max's feet, like a dog. their gazes hungry, the lust was heavy in the room along with sweat and a heat that not even the air conditioning could get rid of. heat lingered, just like the lust that pumped in your veins. even if this felt degrading, it was necessity.

max's cock wasn't the biggest out of the four of them, you'd refuse to say who was the biggest (you didn't need a fight). but as it rubbed up against your face, pre cum drooled onto your cheek before you turned to take it in your mouth. your mouth was so soft that it almost made max crumble. instead he gripped onto the back of your head and pushed his cock into the back of your throat. there were a few tears in your eyes as he started to work your mouth onto his cock. in front of an audience no less. you whimpered with your nose in max's pubic hair as he broke down your gag reflex. you clawed at his thighs before he told you, put those hands to work because i'm not doing your job for you. and without a second thought you started to rub your bare clit. the side of your hand rubbed harshly across your achy pussy. you were soaked and the sounds of your wetness could be heard as you played with yourself. which was a siren's call and the other men stroked their cocks painfully. max worked at your throat and it made you hot all over. the more you pleasured yourself the harder your sucked him off. his praise was mostly hot groans as he guided you up and down his length. he could feel the heat splash across his neck as he fucked your throat even harder. he said something to the other men, but your brain wasn't processing anything. most of the night the men spoke like you weren't in the room or that you were a piece of furniture in the corner. a toy. you continued to pleasure yourself and when max choked you on his cock as he finished, you came as well from the rush to your brain. words were spoken to him and you felt on another planet. when max took his cock out of your mouth, you coughed on the cum in your throat, some coming up across your chin.

before you could think straight once more, carlos had you by the arm. on shaky legs he got you back to the couch then pushed over the back of it. there was enough room for the (soon to not be) ferrari driver and his teammate to use your pussy and throat once more. you prayed that no one asked you questions come morning. carlos took your pussy while charles took your throat. while their cocks weren't impressive when you gazed at them briefly. but when they were shoved inside of you, your eyes rolled back a little. your toes curled as the two fucked you at the same pace. you choked on charles' cock because carlos' cock was up in your stomach. it felt like you were being squished between the two of them. you could hear the two of them talk, even exchanging short laughs and when you looked up at charles to be let in on what they were talking about. but instead charles tapped your nose and you obediently closed your eyes and let his cock hit against your throat some more. your noises were muffled as the two men fucked you feverishly. you could feel the hungry gaze on a sated max and a horny lando. the heavy panting, the soft noises, the creaking of the couch as you laid over it like a doll. you were at their service for the night. the doll of formula one, well rather a lamb the men supposed. soft to the touch, with meat so tender that the other driver's wanted to devour it. you whined a little bit as you clawed at the leather of the couch, it sticking to your sweaty body. everything about it was hot, but yet you were going to be achy come morning. regardless, you had a job to do. you arched your back and whimpered around the other's cock as you felt their paces stagger. you knew it was close for them. pleasure curled in your gut, as you orgasmed once more. it made everything hot all over. without thinking you accepted their cum. you were left over the couch when both men stopped and pulled out. charles' cum lingered in your throat as you gasped for air. your throat was painfully raw. you whimpered when carlos slapped your ass and laughed.

you swore once the ferrari drivers were done with you, lando would show you mercy. but out of all of them, lando wanted you the most. after all he was the one to proposition this entire thing. he was the first driver in your ear. he spun a narrative about how oscar might be jumping shift, but he wasn't too sure if your abilities would be useful at mclaren. and when lando saw you nervously bite your thumbnail, his tale only grew. oscar piastri wasn't going anywhere, but lando was more than happy to sink his cock into you. you ended up on the carpet once more, lando barely got a pillow under your ass before he was fucking you missionary position. he wanted to see every expression that crossed your face. you whimpered and whined, long ago losing most control over your ability to keep quiet. you felt outside your body from the sheer amount of orgasms that had been pulled from you. lando thrusted with such a fever that it left you gagging for more. you tried to find leverage on the carpet but instead got burns across your back and hands. lando loomed over you like a shadow as he kept you pinned to the pillow and therefore the floor by your hips. your legs kicked out as he rammed his cock up against your cervix. if it wasn't bruised, it would be purple by now. you'd be limping for the rest of the season because of it, because of how lando wrecked you. lando's mouth made more marks across your neck and collarbones. adding to the collection left by carlos. you looked towards the couch and found the other exhausted drivers on there. across it and down the sectional. naked, cock's leaky. but lando grabbed you by the jaw and glared down at you. he told you to keep your eyes on him. a head of jealousy showing in a situation where you were used like a rag. with a few more heavy thrusts of his hips, his cock bruising your insides as he finished inside of you. everything went blank in your brain for a moment. pleasure took you under the waves and you could only think about your heavy panting.

you didn't know how long you were laying out on the carpet. you blinked open your eyes and saw max looming over you. you noticed his cock was at full attention and leaky. some pre cum dripped off his cum and down his cock, but a little bit landed on your chin. you couldn't see his eyes, but you knew his gaze was stern. he said one thing, if you want a contract and less bruising. you have three seconds to get to the bed.

you don't know how you ended up in bed, but by morning everything felt sore. you took an extra long time in the shower and kept your jacket to your chin, no one would see the damage done last night. you'd get your contract, even from mclaren. but, sometimes it's not good to wish for things. because whichever team you pick, you're going to have three other hungry pairs of eyes on you. if you go to ferrari, max will find a way to get you over to red bull. go to williams and lando would be pulling a few more strings to get you in orange. and if they couldn't get their way with you on the track, then they'd simply have to make sure to claim your pussy as their own. eventually you'd have to pick one of them (not that you had much to say otherwise). you soon became a prize more important between the top drivers than the championship. because while trophies were nice, having their favourite driver prance around in their colours was even nicer. <3

[locomoqo]

haiii!!! i may have spent the rest of my time reading all your works🥲🥲 and is it okay to request Girl Dad! jake,goo and gun reacting to their baby just blabbering and them going on with it like “yeah i know right” “that’s so true”

thank you!! (also take ur time since it looks like you have alot on ur plate atm💕💕)

sweet talk

ft. Gun Park, Goo Kim & Jake Kim x f!reader [separate]

details: fluff, established relationship (married)

A/N: I SAW THIS AND I WAS LIKE OH I HAVE TO DO THISSS ITS SO SAUR CUTEEEE YIEEE THANK YOU ANON FOR THIS REQ mweheh i love reqs like these

ᯓ★—GUN

Gun worked swiftly, slicing the apples with precision. He glanced over at his baby girl in her seat, her wide eyes tracking his every move as he sliced through each piece. You were down with a fever, leaving him to not only take care of you but also to manage his curious, babbling daughter.

He held up a bunny-shaped apple slice, presenting it to her with a slight smirk. Her reaction was immediate—eyes lighting up as she reached out, tiny fingers stretching toward the apple. “You like the bunny?” he asked as she took it and clumsily tried to nibble on it, ending up with more drool than bites.

Gun shook his head with a faint smile, but just as he turned back to finish the apple slices, she banged her chubby hands on the tray, her little mouth opening in a string of excited babbles.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, tilting his head as she bounced in her seat, one hand gripping the bunny slice like a prized possession while the other pointed insistently at the plate.

“These are for mommy,” he explained, trying to hold his ground, but she only babbled louder, waving her free hand around as if to insist.

Gun sighed, glancing at the bunny-shaped slice she held, and then at the other slices on the plate. “You want all of them like this?” he muttered, looking back at her. “You think mommy would like it, huh?”

“Mamamama!” she gurgled happily, slapping her tiny hands against the tray again, clearly delighted at his consideration.

Gun chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine, you win.” He picked up another apple slice, carefully cutting it into another bunny shape. His daughter watched, entranced, and when he showed her the new bunny, she squealed with delight.

As he worked, Gun continued to talk to her, more to keep her entertained than anything. “Think mommy’s going to like the bunnies?” he mused out loud, and she responded with a babble, as if offering her very serious opinion on the matter.

After finishing, he arranged the bunny-shaped slices neatly on the plate, giving one last glance to his daughter, who had finally managed a small nibble on her slice. “Well, if it makes you two happy…” he muttered with a small, barely-there smile, carrying his daughter in one arm and the plate in his other hand to bring a little joy to his sick wife.

With his daughter happily babbling away at her “help” and his own satisfaction at his work.

ᯓ★—GOO

Goo strolled through the house with his baby girl snuggled in her carrier, her tiny feet kicking as she took in everything with wide, curious eyes. Every few steps, she’d babble something, and Goo would gasp dramatically, as if she’d just shared the most incredible news.

“Oh, really?” he chuckled, bouncing her gently. “You’re just full of stories today, aren’t you?”

They paused in the hallway when she started reaching out, her little hand stretching toward a framed photo on the wall. It was a candid picture of Goo and you, both smiling on your wedding day. She babbled louder, smacking her little hand against the photo, clearly fascinated.

“Oh-ho! You found mama and dada, huh?” Goo teased, leaning closer to the picture so she could get a better look. She gurgled, waving her hands at the frame, and Goo’s grin grew. “You like that, huh? That’s ‘cause mama’s in it. She’s the pretty one, right? Dada’s just the one making her laugh.”

“Umwa, mwaamama!” she let out a string of babbles, and Goo put on a look of mock surprise. “You think she’s prettier than me? Oh, so it’s like that, huh?” he said, feigning hurt. “I’ll let that one slide since you’re my favorite girl.”

His daughter’s little noises filled the hall, and he grinned, nodding like she’d made the smartest observation. “Ohhh, you think I got lucky, huh? You got that right, sweetie. Lucky, lucky, lucky,” he chuckled. “And look at you, you’re her little twin! Same smile, same cute face… except you got daddy’s charm, don’t you?” he added with a wink, booping her nose.

Another babble.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, nodding as though they were having a full-blown conversation. “She’s smart, tough, and—well, let’s just say she’s got me wrapped around her finger. And you… you’re just like her, you know? Gonna grow up and be just as amazing.”

He paused, caught off guard by his own words, blinking in surprise as he felt a weird flutter in his chest. “Whoa, that was... okay, that was a little too sentimental,” he muttered, looking down at his daughter, who just blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes. “Ugh, daddy went full cringe mode for a second there. Ignore that, okay?”

But she just babbled back, and Goo groaned playfully, rolling his eyes. “Oh, great, you’re telling mama? You’re ratting dada out for being sappy? Unbelievable,” he said before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

ᯓ★—JAKE

Jake rocked his crying little girl in his arms, gently swaying back and forth as he tried every trick he could think of to calm her down. He bounced her, hummed softly, even gave her that little “shh-shh-shh” that sometimes worked like magic. But today? Not a chance. Her babbling came between tiny, hiccupping sobs, and he leaned down to look at her with a gentle smile, brushing a thumb softly across her chubby cheek.

“Someone’s got a lot to say,” he murmured, his voice soft. “Tell me, princess, what’s wrong? You hungry?” He shifted her in his arms, bouncing her lightly. “Or are you just giving daddy a little piece of your mind?”

His daughter’s cries softened for a moment, only to pick back up again with another babble. Jake widened his eyes, nodding as if he fully understood her complaints. “Ah, I see, I see,” he replied, nodding seriously. “So it’s the blanket, huh? Not soft enough? Or was it the bottle? Too warm? Too cold? Man, this is complicated.”

She let out another babble-cry, tiny fists reaching up to grab onto his shirt as if she were clinging to her last hope. He chuckled, taking her tiny hand and pressing a gentle kiss to her fingers. “Alright, I get it, princess. You’re not mad. Just… sharing some feedback, right? I respect that.”

She let out a series of softer babbles, staring up at him with watery eyes, and Jake leaned forward, pressing his forehead lightly to hers. “Yeah, I’m listening. Go on, get it all out. Daddy’s right here.”

With each little sound she made, Jake nodded along, pretending to take mental notes. “Oh, so it’s my singing you’re not a fan of? I thought it was pretty good—so did mommy, but maybe I need some pointers from the expert,” he whispered, winking. “And the rocking chair? Too slow, right? Got it, I’ll add that to daddy’s list.”

She continued to babble, and he kept going along with it, his voice taking on a playful tone. “And here I thought daddy was nailing it, huh? Guess I still have a lot to learn from the boss.”

She let out a few more babbling sounds, her tone shifting like she was calming down, and Jake continued, nodding sympathetically. “And on top of that, maybe you missed mommy a little too, right? Thought she’d be here, didn’t you?” He gave her a warm smile, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her back. 

Finally, her cries faded into little hiccups, her big eyes staring up at him. Jake let out a soft laugh, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. “See? You just needed someone to listen. Don’t worry, princess—I’ll always be here, taking notes and making sure everything’s just right.”

His daughter cooed softly, finally content, her tiny fingers clutching his shirt as she nestled closer. Jake let out a relieved sigh, pulling her closer.

[wstviewvidal]

fwb!wanda headcanons

pairing: fwb!wanda maximoff x reader

summary: headcanons based on my two small works breakfast and birthday!

a/n: thank you all so much for your love and support on my past two works! it means the world to me that at least two people like it lol.

minors do not interact

- fwb!wanda who finds herself staring at you with a love struck smile when you get ready at her vanity wearing her sleep clothes (she may or may not have candid pictures of you on your phone in said scenario)

- fwb!wanda who had a crush on you for the longest before the two of you slept together for the first time. she often found herself wondering what you were doing, and if you were doing okay. she usually always called you with a lame excuse of wanting to talk

- fwb!wanda who gives people death stares when they look at you for too long. she hates that she can’t vocalize or act on her jealousy due to the nature of your relationship

- fwb!wanda who laughs at every joke you tell her (even when they suck) and her friends making fun of her for it

- she absolutely loves when you sit on her lap on your own without her having to pull you into her. it makes her feel like you willingly seek her out, that her feelings for you aren’t as one sided as they may seem

- at parties, she knows you don’t like crowded spaces so she makes it a point to check in on you and keep an eye on you from wherever she’s at. she’ll text you from across the room, let me know when you want to leave. we can get food

- has a list of things you’ve said you liked and wanted (she uses this list to buy you gifts every month)

-your parents love wanda (granted they think she’s just your best friend and know nothing about your agreement) and she makes it a point to get to know them personally because she hopes someday she’ll ask for their blessing

- wanda who will make reservations for dinner for the two of you and, if you’re late, will order you whatever she knows you’ll like.

- you gave her a necklace a few years ago as a gift and you’ve yet to see her without it on. she changes all of her jewelry often, always adding to her collection, but this necklace is the one thing that’s never changed

- wanda loves to compliment you because of how flustered you get, the way you roll your eyes and try to look away so she won’t see the blush on your face

- she is a flirt. she will flirt with no shame, doesn’t matter where or who you’re with. she will try to woo you at any moment

- although she’s such a sweetheart to you, she has a dirty mind and will often throw her thoughts at you while doing the most mundane tasks. (innocently, she acts like she didn’t say them after you ask her to repeat herself)

- when you two go out, she never allows you to open a door. she insists that it’s better if only one of you touches the door so it minimizes the risk of the germs getting you two getting sick (but you know better)

- when you two would study together in college, she would try to subtly ask if you were seeing anyone (you know why she was asking but never acknowledged it)

- whenever you two go out to eat, you two always give each other the first bite of whatever you’re eating

- on your way home from work, you always call wanda to ask her how her day went (not because you were dying to hear her voice all day..)

- wanda’s a few inches taller than you and loves it. she loves being able to reach things on the tall shelf for you, she loves being useful

- when you told wanda that a guy was flirting with you at work, she took it upon herself to send you a gigantic bouquet of flowers because she said it was her duty as your friend to protect you (not because she was jealous..)

- wanda who is absolutely head over heels for you and often finds it hard to not act like your girlfriend (not that you mind)

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Cold ~ Part 2

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST / CHRONIC ILLNESS MASTERLIST

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2,020ish

Summary: Logan becomes overprotective of you.

Notes: I hope this part makes some sense… I got sick yet again so I'm really craving someone to take care of me.

Cold ~ Part 1

Logan became a master at taking care of you during an arthritic flare-up. The consequence of that was that he also became a master at doing everything he could to make sure that you didn’t flare up. When is why he was marching towards you, with a clear look of anger.

“What are you doing?” He asked as you were stretching in the Danger Room.

“Uh, stretching,” you responded, continuing your movements. “I have a training session with Scott in a few minutes.”

“Not anymore. You’re not training.”

“Logan, I can’t gain more strength in my powers without training.”

“You’ve trained twice already this week.”

“And my current goal is three times.”

“You’re not ready for it yet.”

“I think I know what I’m ready for, Logan.”

“No. You don’t. I can sense that you’re overdoing it.”

“I’m feeling fine. I’m going to train.”

“Everything okay here?” Scott asked, feeling the tension as he entered the room.

“Yes.” / “No.”

“Okay, then,” Scott said, slowly backing up. 

“I’m training, Logan,” you argued, standing your ground. 

“Like hell you are,” he grumbled. 

The two of you stared each other down, trying to see which one of you would break first, though you both knew the answer. With a scoff and a stop of your foot, you grabbed your training bag and threw it at Logan.

“Since I’m so weak, carry that back to my locker,” you huffed, marching off.

Logan sighed, shoulders slumping. He didn’t want to be the bad guy in your life; he was just worried. He also simply cared deeply for you in a way he hadn’t cared for anyone in far too long. He hated seeing you in pain and would do anything to prevent the pain you were forced into constantly. Logan had even talked to Hank about somehow using his healing mutation to help you. Hank said it was impossible. So Logan was forced to keep a careful eye on you, no matter if that meant you were often mad at him. 

~~~

You did your best to avoid Logan for the next few days. But no matter how hard you tried, Logan was there, stopping you from training, or carrying heavy items, or using your mutation. The anger was festering inside of you, and it all came to a boiling point when you were called into a mission briefing. Everyone was already in the briefing room when you slipped in. You hung back by the door, trying to prevent Logan from seeing you just yet.

“The base that you will be infiltrating is in an interesting location,” Charles explained. The table everyone was surrounding changed to show the base. “It is several hundred feet down in the Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of Long Island. Due to their security system, there is only one way to reach it.” Charles’ eyes fell on you, causing the rest of the team to turn and look.

“No,” Logan immediately said. “No fucking way.”

“Logan, Y/N has been training for this. She has known about this mission for weeks now and is prepared.”

“Don’t care. She’s not a part of this. Find a different way.”

“Do I get any say in this?” You piped up.

“No,” Logan quickly responded, still focusing on Charles. “She’s not going. It’s too dangerous.”

You were growing angrier and angrier, forcing yourself to clench your fists as you felt the water pipes in the wall begin to tremble. Jean noticed and came over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Why don’t we take a break and reconvene later?” Ororo suggested.

“Later or not, Y/N is not going,” Logan argued.

“It’s not your choice!” You yelled. “It’s mine! I can do what needs to be done.”

“No, you can’t! You are too weak.”

A few gasps were heard throughout the room.

“Weak?” You repeated, both hurt and angered. “That’s what you think of me?” Suddenly, the pipes burst in the walls.

“Enough!” Charles commanded. “Y/N will be participating in the mission. And you will all be leaving at nightfall.”

You rushed out of the room, trying to hide the tears threatening to fall. You could hear loud footsteps behind you, already knowing who it was. A large hand caught your wrist, forcing you to stop, but you didn’t turn around.

“You can’t go,” Logan’s voice was stern but slightly wavered at the end. 

“You’re not in charge of me, Logan,” you replied, trying not to let him know how you were feeling. “I am going on this mission, no matter if you think I’m weak or not.” You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip, but his grip only tightened. “Let me go, Logan.”

“Not until you drop out of the mission.”

You finally looked at him, anger replacing hurt. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Y/N—“

With a flick of your free hand, the pipes in the hallway walls broke. The water shot out of the walls and pummeled Logan, throwing him back and away from you. You were breathing heavily as you stopped the water. Not wanting Logan to see how hard that was for you, you quickly left.

~~~

The jet ride was completely silent. You grabbed the pilot seat next to Scott so that you didn’t have to look at Logan. You could feel Logan’s eyes staring daggers into you.

“We’re here,” Scott announced, having the jet hover over where the base was located. He looked over at you. “You ready?”

“Yes,” you responded, determined.

“Great.” Scott stood. “Everyone get tethered up, then Y/N will clear a channel once everyone is ready.”

“I’m not going down,” Logan said. “I’m staying with Y/N.”

“We need you down there, Logan,” Jean said. “We’ll all be connected through the comms.”

“I can handle myself,” you added. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

You could see Logan’s jaw clench tighter. He let out a grunt before focusing on getting tethered up. Once you were sure they were all ready, you opened the bottom of the jet up. You took a deep breath before stretching your arms towards the ocean water and creating an open circular channel.

“Let’s go!” Scott said, jumping down first. Jean and Ororo quickly followed, with Logan lingering behind, watching you.

“Go, Logan!” You shouted. 

He watched you for a few more seconds before jumping down with the rest. You ground your teeth together as you began to feel the strain of using your mutation like this.

“Alright, Y/N,” Scott said over the comms. “We’re in. We’ll let you know when we need the channel opened.”

“Got it,” you responded.

As you let the water go, you stumbled back, falling to the ground. You could feel the achiness start to set into your joints. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe you were weak. The jet suddenly shook as it was hit. You fumbled over to the pilot’s seat, trying to steer the jet away.

“Guys!” You shouted into the comms. “We have a situation up here. I’m being fired on!”

“What?!” A chorus of voices yelled over the comms.

“It looks like they got a few of their own jets in the sky.” The jet rocked as it got hit again. “Shit!”

“Y/N?!” Logan’s worried voice flooded through the speakers. 

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” You quickly punched a few buttons. “I’ve gone into stealth mode. Hopefully, that holds them for a little bit, but that means you have to free those mutants fast.”

It was another ten minutes before Scott gave you the signal to reopen the channel. You reopened the bottom doors and focused all your energy on opening the channel. Unfortunately, that also meant that the opposing side could find the jet. The jet shook yet again with another hit.

“Hurry!” You urged. “We’re open for hits!”

Scott and Jean came up the tethered lines first, each with a mutant with them. Ororo was next, two mutants with her, and then Logan with the last one. He could immediately sense that you were hurting more than the strain on your face was giving away. Untethering himself, Logan headed for you, but the jet shook once again before he could get to you. You released the hold you had on the water as you flew up and rammed into the ceiling. You let out a cry of pain. Logan moved fast, sliding as he barely caught you before you hit the floor.

“I’ve got you, I've got you,” he whispered, holding you tightly against him.

“Hang on!” Scott shouted. “We’re going to get out of here!”

Everything hurt inside. You couldn’t even hold onto Logan, just laying against him limply as you cried. Logan did his best to hold you steady as Scott flew the jet every which way to avoid getting completely shot down. Jean ended up using her powers to keep Logan and you still as everyone’s hearts were breaking at the cries and whimpers of pain coming out of you.

It took far too long for Logan’s liking for Scott to lose the other jets and return to the mansion. As gently as Logan could manage, he carried you out of the jet and to your room. He laid you down before moving around the room to grab a heating pad, medication, and a change of clothes for you.

“You were right,” you whispered. If Logan didn’t have enhanced hearing, he would have missed it.

“About what?” He responded, bringing all the items over to you.

“I’m weak…”

“No, I— I didn’t mean it that way, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you did… and yes, I am… I shouldn’t even be on the team. I can’t even handle one mission.”

Logan sighed, trying to get his thoughts together before he spoke. You took it as a sign that he let you win. With a whine, you sat up.

“You can go,” you told him. “I can take care of myself.”

“No,” he responded gruffly.

“Logan,” you sighed. “I’ve taken care of myself before… flare-ups can’t stop me. I’ve got to keep living.”

“There. Right there. That’s why you’re the strongest person I have ever met.”

“But you said—“

“I know what I said, and I… I’m sorry. You are not weak. I just… I, God, I’m terrible at this.” His hand raked through his hair. “I—Sweetheart, I care so much about you. I am constantly worried about you, but it’s out of…”

“Out of what, Lo?”

He gave you a knowing look. “I think you know what.”

“I think you need to say it so I don’t go assuming things.”

“I… I love you, sweetheart. And I just hate to see you in pain. I wish that I could take it from you, and trust me, I asked Hank about it, and I—”

You winced as you placed your hand on top of Logan’s mouth to stop his rambling. “I love you, too. And I know that I haven’t said it enough, but thank you for taking care of me.”

His hand carefully wrapped around your wrist as he kissed your hand and moved it down to your lap. “Always.” He looked at you, wanting to kiss you, but he could sense the pain you were in. “What do you need?”

You looked away. “I… I can’t change.”

“Alright.”

“I need some heat.”

“I grabbed your heating pad.” He held it up.

“Could you hold me?”

“Are you sure? I’m a lot heavier than you and I—“

“And your body is my personal heating pad. Please, Logan.”

“How do you want me?”

You winced as you moved to lie down. Logan’s hand hovered over your body, not knowing exactly what to do to help. You moved onto your side, back facing Logan. He got the hint and carefully maneuvered around you so that he was the big spoon and you were the little spoon.

“Like this?” He muttered nervously.

“It’s perfect,” you replied.

“You sure. I can—“

“Logan. Just hold me.”

“Okay.” He leaned in and kissed the back of your neck before resting his head there. “I’ll hold you as long as you need, sweetheart.”